


It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn

by Rosabella98



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Multi, Once and Future King, Reincarnation, Time Travel, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 82,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosabella98/pseuds/Rosabella98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He searched for them in every face, trying to find Arthur’s courage and leadership in the cocky young colonel, Gwaine's exuberance and good spirits in the happy-go-lucky captain, Elyan’s loyalty and Percival’s strength in the two lieutenants in his squadron, Lancelot’s nobility in the major’s selflessness with the children they met in their missions, and Leon’s wisdom and good counsel in the taciturn lieutenant-colonel’s (the same rank as Merlin himself) occasional comments. But the truth was, none of the men in Merlin squadron could ever compare to the friends he had lost, and every time they failed to measure up was like a blow to Merlin’s gut</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone

Present Day- The wilds of England

The blue of the lake never changed, despite the passing of the seasons, months, years, centuries. At first, the lake seemed to be shrouded in a mist when seen from far away, but as a person approached, its true brilliance started come out until the breath literally seemed to go out of a person. At first glance, after coming out of the grim darkness of the forest which led to the lake, it would hurt the eyes because of its brightness. The water reflected the sun in such a way that it seemed to sparkle off it, at first blinding the person. It had stayed the vibrant green blue that it had been the first time the old man had passed through the area, when he was still young and optimist about the world and its future. Of course, it had been many years since then, and the old man was tired. He had lost his sense of optimism after seeing all his friends, everyone he had ever held dear, die one after another, and had lost his hope in the years waiting for his turn to join them. The lake, in a way, was an object of grief for him, because here he had said goodbye to each of them and here they all lay, waiting for him to join them in eternal sleep. But he could not. He had watched as the world around him aged, fell, and was reborn anew many times, and yet he had not aged a day from the first time he had walked by it as a young man leaving home for the big city. Of course, now that the world had started keeping track of its citizens, through pictures, videos, and IDs, he found his old disguise of the old man a lot easier than his actual form. It had become almost a second skin, the ache in his bones, the dimness in his vision, his impaired hearing, and maintaining the spell was almost of no cost to him anymore. People were a lot less suspicious of an harmless old man than a youth with a goofy grin and gangly limbs, and most importantly, it helped him fade into the background. Today, that ability to fade into the background had almost cost him his life as a speeding truck had narrowly missed him. Of course, it wouldn’t have killed him but explaining why he had survived a full on collision to the group of boys playing football on the other side of the road would have been difficult. Remembering the frank openness of the boy that asked him if he was okay after the encounter and the playful banter that the boys had engaged in had brought back memories of young men, banter, cheerfulness, and a sense of belonging that the old man had been missing for far longer than he cared to remember. But then, it was his destiny to wait, to watch, and be ready for any sign of the return of his king. If he had known as a young man, when he had first heard of his destiny, that this is what it would have entailed, lifetimes of waiting, would he have gone through with it? Probably not, as he was tired now, tired of the unexpected burden of watching the world grow old, of watching everyone die, of the grief for those long gone days that never seemed to abate. But then, his name probably should have clued him, even when he did not know its true meaning as he did now. He was Emrys, the immortal.

Present Day (A week later)- Washington State

Eleanor finished the book, and huffed in disappointment. Yet another ending that missed that perfect mix of epic, sweetness, and plain old happiness that she had been searching for ever since the dream last night. She could not remember any of the particulars, or even what the dream was about, but the feelings which she had woken up with is what she could not get out of her head. All day, she had tried to settle, first by going out to do some shopping with her best friend, then by helping her mom cook, and then watching some TV with her sisters, and finally by reading one of her favorite novels, a romance novel by Lynn Kurland. It wasn’t one of the books she usually read, because it did not involve a complicated plot or excitement, nor was it a classic, but rather it was simple and sweet. She turned to this book every time she could not get something out of her head, or comfort, and usually it helped. Not this time, though. With a groan, she got up from her bed and looked on her clock. Only 7:00 PM, which meant that it was too early to try and fall asleep again, hoping to dream this same dream again so that this time she might remember more of it. She glanced in the mirror by the side of the door, and saw her reflection looking clueless about what to do. A round faced girl, because she still could not think of herself as anything else, with honey brown hair falling down her back, stared back at her. She wasn’t overly tall, a mere 5’6”, and had always hated her hands because she thought her fingers were too chubby. Her face wasn’t really remarkable, she had always thought, since it gave her a bit of a baby faced appearance, but also had a kind of sternness to it due to her thick eyebrows and her deep Cupid’s bow that made her lips look on the verge of smiling. However, if there was one thing that Eleanor had always been a little vain about was her blue eyes. They were the color of a mountain lake, going from aqua when she was happy about something to stormy gray when she was mad. Right now, those eyes were a dull blue, as in a stone which had once been bright but had now lost its luster, and confusion shone deep in them. It was something that was usual for the majority of almost-fifteen year olds, but it wasn’t something that Eleanor was used to feeling. Since she had been a toddler, she had gone after anything she wanted with a tenacity that surprised most people. It showed in the sparkle in her vivid blue eyes, her sense of purpose, of hard-work, and plain old stubbornness. That was why at the tender age of one and ten months, as she was toddling away with the mannequin used for CPR lessons at her first swim lesson, she had had to learn moderation. Now, that equal parts stubborn and persistent streak hadn’t left her, but it was usually buried within and only came out in special occasions. Still, in the fifteen years of her life, she had never felt this sensation, and she wasn’t sure of what to do in order to get past it. Finally, she sat on the window seat. Her favorite features about the room were those big windows that compromised the eastern wall. Tonight, she just by them, with her feet curled under her, and just let her thoughts wander. She could feel the refreshing midsummer breeze just starting to come in, shifting the heat that had plagued her all day, and could see the stars light up the suburban community around her. Tonight, a full moon shone around her, something that she usually failed to notice. As she stared at the moon, she started to feel sleep encroach on her, and decided to not fight it anymore. She gave in, smiling as if she was meeting an old friend.

At the same time, in the wilds of England…

Merlin had had enough. Sure, at first being the Immortal one, Emrys, had sounded like a great adventure, like he was the special one for once, but now, Merlin just wanted to be done. To rest, like Arthur and the others, and to finally reunite with those whom he had loved and lost. If one counted the years, which Merlin had long given up on, Merlin had been waiting for over 1,500 years. Yet, he remembered everything of those years, of the Golden Age of Albion, with the crystal clarity of yesterday while still feeling all of the years that had passed on his wearied spirit. Still, he waited, because of a promise that had been made by his trusted friend, the Great Dragon Kilgharrah, the mouthpiece the Old Religion had used when communicating with Merlin. The promise spoke of the return of the Once and Future king, Arthur Pendragon, and his court when Albion needed them again. It had been many years since that promise, or any contact with the Old Religion, that Merlin was starting to doubt that day would come. He had seen unimaginable horrors, wars, murders, fires, and plagues, and yet each day went by and the lake’s water remained smooth, withholding its secrets from Merlin. He thought for sure that the First World War would be what brought Arthur back to him, but the war ended and still he sat by the lake. When the Second World War broke, Merlin was so sure that Arthur and his knights would come back that he reverted to his true age, the face he had worn in his time in Camelot, and bought clothing for each of them. He laid it out on the shore by the lake, and waited for a week without sleeping or eating. But none of them showed up. He decided that he could not stand by and watch another atrocity such as the first one happen, so he enlisted in the British army and spent the next five years flying airplanes, fighting off the Germans and rescuing war prisoners behind enemy lines. Those five years made Merlin feel like he once again had a purpose, like he was finally doing good in the world again, but every time he pulled off some brave rescue or escaped with his life in the nick of time, he felt something missing. There was a sense of emptiness where his heart had once been, because he felt wrong doing things that were so similar to his old life without his friends, that it quickly took out the joy of having a purpose again. That was the same reason why, whenever some of the other officers invited him to join them for a drink or company, he always turned them down. He would feel like he was betraying his friends and at the same time, like he was giving up on them, like he was admitting that they were never coming back and he was alone in the world. He searched for them in every face, trying to find Arthur’s courage and leadership in the cocky young colonel, Gwaine's exuberance and good spirits in the happy-go-lucky captain, Elyan’s loyalty and Percival’s strength in the two lieutenants in his squadron, Lancelot’s nobility in the major’s selflessness with the children they met in their missions, and Leon’s wisdom and good counsel in the taciturn lieutenant-colonel’s (the same rank as Merlin himself) occasional comments. But the truth was, none of the men in Merlin squadron could ever compare to the friends he had lost, and every time they failed to measure up was like a blow to Merlin’s gut. That was why he avoided them as much as possible, and why he returned to his old man’s disguise and his tiny cottage by the lake as soon as the war ended, isolating him from the world once again.  
Today, he had had enough however. For the first time in the long time, he called to the skies using the ancient dragon tongue once again, but no answer came. He should have expected it, of course, as he knew that Kilgharrah was long gone and Aithusa the last of her species, but the complete silence from the skies just drove his loneliness home. With tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes, despite his best efforts to keep them in check, he decided to go one place where he had not been in a long time: the Isle of the Blessed, where the Old Religion still had one of its last anchors to this world. There he could find the answers that he sought out, or at least a way to cure himself of his unwanted immortality. However, he could not go out as the doddery old man he wore day to day, because that would draw unneeded concern to why one as old as him would find himself in the middle of the woods during the night. Of course, what the people wouldn’t know is that the young man they would see walk in was older than the woods themselves, since he had magically grown them to protect the location of the Isle of the Blessed from the prying eyes of the world. More wards were placed around the island, so if a normal human were to accidentally stumble on it, they would not see it and simply go around it. He had done a similar thing to the Lake of Avalon, but there a person would just see a small, plain lake and then suddenly remember that they had some other pressing business to attend and leave. He had also saved two other places dear to his heart beside those two: Camelot and the palace of the olden Kings of Camelot, where the original Round Table was founded. The enchantment he had placed on those two places was different, because it completely hid them from the world, and the only way to pass through it would be if Merlin himself was there to guide you through. They were preserved in the exact condition that they had been when the last true Queen, Guinevere, had died. At first, it had been difficult to explain their disappearance, but eventually people just forgot of the kingdom of Camelot and its king. That is, of course, until the legends started. Merlin smiled as thought back to the first time he had heard Geoffrey of Monmouth’s first account of Arthur’s story; how fitting that the namesake of the old librarian at Camelot would be the first to bring Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table out of obscurity. Over the years, Merlin had collected every single volume that mentioned Arthur, his Knights, or Merlin himself, and had saved them all in a small room in his cottage. He had laughed at some of the more absurd ones, such as the ones that said the Arthur and Morgana were Mordred’s parents, or that the Lady of the Lake, his beloved Freya, had been Lancelot’s mother. What had saddened him was that Guinevere had gone down in history as the betrayer, the queen which had brought down all of Camelot with her affair with Lancelot. That was far from the wise Queen that Merlin had known, the strong woman who had held Camelot together with sheer will power after Arthur’s death. Every time he heard the legend, always slightly tweaked, a sharp pang of nostalgia hit him, because they never got it right and because it just brought back to him how removed he was from his friends.  
Night was falling as a young Merlin paid the taxi driver and started walking towards the woods. As soon as he was out of sight, he spoke in the ancient language of magic, summoning a small wind current to carry him all the way to the shores of the lake that held the Isle of the Blessed. The region which he found himself in was now called Scotland, but Merlin did not bother with names, having traveled the land far and wide long before those names had ever been in place. He paid the gold coin to the rower, and waited as they slowly approached the island. The last time he had been here had been the terrible day when Lancelot had sacrificed himself in order to close the Veil between the worlds, and Merlin had never been able to bring himself to step on the island again. Some things were better just left alone. Now, he could almost feel Lancelot’s presence on the island, as well as that of the other knights and Arthur’s, although less than Lancelot. They seemed to be approving of Merlin finally doing something, after over 60 years of what Gaius would have called sulking. As he stood in the center of the island, where he had fought Nimueh and killed her, he called out, using both modern English and the ancient tongue of magic:  
“I, Merlin Emrys, summon the Triple Goddess of the Old Religion!” he called; as thunder roared and flashes of lighting appeared from clouds that had not been there a moment before. He waited, panting slightly from the effort of using such magic to call a goddess who had not been worshipped on the Earth for more than a thousand years. It had been too long since he had used his magic on such a grand scale. He waited a couple heartbeats for the goddess, but she did not appear. He started looking around, but could not find her anywhere. Where was she? He silently wondered, and then froze as a thought entered his mind: what if the Triple Goddess, like most of the Old Religion and even the dragons, was no more? That would make him, Merlin, the last creature of magic, and oh, so very alone.  
“We assume that you were calling for us, Great Emrys” said a voice behind Merlin. A voice that he recognized, having heard it before, a long time ago.


	2. Old Enemies, New Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin faces off with an old enemy, and finds a new purpose.

“We assume that you were calling for us, Great Emrys” said a voice behind Merlin. A voice that he recognized, having heard it before, a long time ago.  
“Nimueh? I-I thought I killed you, all those years ago! What are you doing here?” asked Merlin, turning around the face the sorceress and once-High Priestess.  
“You did kill me, but that was always my destiny. My purpose here is as one of the 9 Gatekeepers of Avalon, or as we have also been called in literature, the Ladies of the Lake” replied Nimueh, smiling her trademark smile, full of secrets and cunning. Only, this time, it seemed as if she was sharing the secret with Merlin, not tempting him with it before disappearing.  
“But I did not call for the Gatekeepers of Avalon; I didn’t even know they existed! I called for the Triple Goddess!” said Merlin, confused at her presence. He didn’t really have experience with meeting the incarnations or presences of people he had killed, but he expected that they did not wish him well.  
“Indeed, but the Triple Goddess does not concern herself with the affairs of men. Her realm is separate from the aboveground, and she has long given over that task to us, her handmaidens.” Replied Nimueh, her calm unruffled by Merlin’s evident confusion at her appearance.   
“I see… What do you mean us?” asked Merlin, suddenly curious about this important magical order he had been completely ignorant about before now.  
“There are 9 of us, as I already mentioned. We are the most powerful sorceress to ever walk the Earth, and our destiny had always been to guard the Island of Avalon, its occupants, and its passage to the realm of the Triple Goddess” explained Nimueh.  
“Who are the 9? Why have I never met you before?” asked Merlin.  
“You have never met us because the time was not yet ripe. To answer your first question, there is me, of course, then Vivienne, Elaine, Hekate, Gwenyfair, Ninianne, Evienne, Freya…” replied Nimueh, holding up a finger for each name.  
“Wait a second, Freya is a Gatekeeper? How come I never knew of it?” asked Merlin, now completely baffled.   
“Indeed. She only became one after her death, however, as well as being the Lady of the Lake. Why else would she be the guardian of Excalibur if she was not one of us?” replied Nimueh, surprised that Merlin had not figured it out in his long life on Earth.  
“Well, I knew she was the Lady of the Lake, but I never knew that there was more than one” said Merlin, embarrassed at his lack of knowledge. He had been on the Earth a long time, and it had been an almost equally long time since he discovered someone who knew something he did not.   
“Would you also like to know the name of the last Gatekeeper, Emrys? I fear she will surprise you even more than your Freya” said Nimueh, continuing on as if she had not heard Merlin’s half-apology. At a nod from Merlin, she continued: “She is Morgana La Fay, the lost Gatekeeper.”  
“NO! It cannot be Morgana, she stood for everything that was bad in the Old Religion!” yelled Merlin, suddenly worried about this new order. “Were you working with her this whole time, Nimueh?”  
“There is no cause for your anger, Emrys. The order has always worked in the favor of the Once and Future King, and yours as well. That is why Morgana is the lost Keeper, her mind was poisoned and she turned away from all that was good within her.” Nimueh explained. “Morgana’s curse was that she trusted too much in the wrong people, and in return, she lost her true path.   
“Morgause?” Merlin guessed, remembering his old enemy. With almost every foe that he and Arthur had fought, Merlin had been able to find some kind of redeeming quality, something to pity them for, all except Morgause. He had sensed that she was evil, down to the core, just the pure spirit of evil. According to Nimueh, Morgause would have been the evil influence that turned Morgana, which made sense, since Morgana had never been the same after the year she spent in “captivity” with Morgause.   
“Indeed. Without the last of the Gatekeepers, our order cannot serve its true purpose, and neither will you, Emrys. Your destinies are forever linked.” Nimueh said, echoing something Merlin had heard in the Crystal Cave a long time ago. He was watching Nimueh closely, and could tell she was getting closer to revealing her true purpose for responding to Merlin’s call.   
“How are our destinies linked? My destiny ended a long time ago, on the day Arthur died. I have nothing left to live for. I am just a lonely, tired old man, inside if not outside.” Merlin said.  
“That is where you are wrong, Emrys. Your destiny has not yet begun, because you are missing not just one, but two of its main players. Not until they are all gathered may your true destiny take place.” Nimueh explained. “My presence here is that of a messenger, but also of a teacher. There is a flip side to the destiny that you pursued all those years ago in Camelot, one that in the foolishness of youth you failed to see. The fact that Arthur is the Once and Future King means that his true purpose shall be achieved after his return, not before.”   
“Then why has he not yet come back? I have waited for centuries, alone for far too long.” Merlin exclaimed, all of the frustration that had caused him to come to the island in the first place evident in his voice.   
“He cannot come back because it takes the strength of 9 to open the Gates of Avalon in the reverse. With Morgana’s soul lost, wandering in the in an isolation created of her own guilt and misery, the Gates can never been opened.”   
“But then, how can Arthur come back?” Merlin asked.  
“He cannot.” Nimueh said. Merlin’s face fell, as he realized that all his centuries of waiting, hoping, remembering, had been for naught. He turned around, facing away from Nimueh, because he did not want her to see the tears that started to form in his eyes as his world crashed around him. Arthur was never coming back, and all of this had been a cruel, cruel twist of fate and Merlin had nothing left. He truly was alone in the world.  
“But there is a way you can fix this, Emrys. It all depends on your answer to this one question: if you had the chance to do everything over again, would you change anything?” Nimueh asked, after stepping closer to Merlin, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
“What do you mean, do everything again?”  
“Just that, Emrys. If you were to start over from the moment you stepped through the gates of Camelot as a young man, would you do it? And would you change?” asked Nimueh.  
“And see them all again? Talk to them, say all of the things I should’ve said? In a heartbeat” Merlin said, a whisper of hope escaping him, despite his best efforts.   
“Not just that, but change the future, Emrys. Will you do it? And consider it carefully before you answer it, because once your answer is given you may not go back on it.” Nimueh said, her eyes flashing.  
Merlin wanted to hesitate, just so he could say that yes, he had considered carefully all sides and consequences of his choice, but he’d be lying. Seeing his friends, no, his family, even for a few minutes, was worth giving up everything and anything, even his immortality. “Yes” he answered simply.  
“You don’t disappoint, Emrys. You have made a wise choice, one that should enable the Once and Future King to rise once again.” Nimueh said, smiling the first genuine smile that Merlin had ever seen her smile, “But there is more that you must know before you can leave, the least of which is the spell you must use to merge yourself with your past self…”  
Merlin listened as Nimueh told him a tale, well to use the old cliché, as old as time. The Earth, source of all the magic, had recognized that only a king whose most important traits were love, courage, and loyalty could truly guide the humans out of the darkness. But when Arthur was born, the time was not right for the humans to exit the shadows, as they had grown too bloodthirsty, too removed from the light to welcome it back. That is, all for an except few that became Arthur’s court and most trusted advisers. (At this point in the tale, Nimueh inclined her head toward Merlin, indicating that he too was included in this selected number.) Earth soon took back those special few, before they too could be corrupted by the evil that seemed to rule the Earth. However, she did not take all of them, leaving one behind to spread the stories of the Once and Future King, so that humanity would have a beacon of hope for the future, a trail to the light if you will. That one person left behind would be called Emrys, the Immortal One, and he would have the heaviest burden to carry of all.   
“This is not news to you, Emrys. You knew that Arthur was special already; you just did not know that he had been handpicked by the Earth itself to rule humanity in its happiest of times.” “What you do not know is this,” she went on, “Arthur to succeed needs his equal, his other half, his soul mate, as many people would put it.”   
“But Guinevere…” Merlin asked, perplexed. If ever he had seen someone perfectly matched, it was Guinevere and Arthur, so how could they not be soulmates?  
“Guinevere is a rare soul, Emrys. Down to her core, she is kind and loyal, love personified. Her nature makes her capable to have more than one true love. What she and Arthur had was real, true love, but so was her love with Sir Lancelot. She could be soul mates with either of them, but in the end, she fell in love with Lancelot first. A part of her will always love him, which means she could never be Arthur’s soul mate.” Nimueh explained.  
“But then who is Arthur’s soul mate? He never seemed to truly fall in love with anyone except Guinevere” asked Merlin, anxious to know. Now that he had a chance, a way to get back to his old life, to the last time he had truly felt alive, he wanted to grab at it with both hands and never let it go. Nimueh’s slow unveiling of clues, hints and cues, was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted for her to just get to the point.  
Apparently, she sensed that, because as her smile widened, she cupped her hands and whispered in Old English, the language of magic: “wæfersýn”. Immediately, a round image appeared in 3D. In it, Merlin saw a girl, no more than 15, innocently sleeping by her bedroom window, her face illuminated by the full moon. Her round face seemed to be smiling, even in her sleep, and yet her featureis had a hint of steeliness hidden within that told Merlin she was not easily controlled. In the white light of the moon, her brown hair seemed to almost have threads of gold shot throughout it, and her lowered lashes made her seem even younger. In those few seconds that Merlin saw the sleeping girl, he felt an immediate kinship, a natural affinity for her, as if they had been destined to be. Merlin had only felt that feeling once, a long time ago, when he had been a young boy, put in the stocks for standing up to a prince. There he had met a shy, but vivacious and kind young servant, who would one day become the Queen of Camelot.   
“Who is she?” asked Merlin, surprised at the off topic image that Nimueh showed him.  
“She is Arthur’s soul mate, to answer your earlier questions. The reason why never fell in love with anyone other than Guinevere is that his own soul mate was separated from him by time and space” said Nimueh, smiling as she watched the realization dawning on Merlin’s face. “Would like to know why, Emrys?” she asked, anticipating his next question.  
At his nod, she went on: “That is because while the Triple Goddess, and the Earth itself, whom she serves, wish for the time of the Once and Future King to dawn, not everyone does so. There is a force, a force that is pure evil, which opposes the plans of the Triple Goddess. Its true name is too evil to ever speak, because to do so would give it power over the speaker. When referring to it, we Gatekeepers of Avalon simply call it Discord. Discord, while it could do nothing to interfere with the coming of Arthur, it could take away the thing that made him complete, his other half in all respects, and thus shorten Arthur's time and delay his return, perhaps forever. Thus, Discord did it by separating them with a gulf so wide, only someone with as great as power as you could fix it, Emrys."  
"I really hate that name... You could call me Merlin if we are going to be working together..." Merlin muttered under his breath as he tried to process the load of information that Nimueh had just given him. "So now that I know who Arthur's soul mate is, what do I do with her?" he asked.  
“She comes back into the past with you. Your task is to get her here in a week’s time, when my sisters and I will help you with the spell. Of course, she has to be willing to be a part of her destiny before when can send her back into the past, so that task will be up to you, Em... I mean, Merlin.” She said, glancing over to Merlin as she corrected herself. “When you come back to do the spell, you shall know further details about your mission in the past. Just remember Merlin, this spell is a onetime deal only. Once you go, there is no coming back.” And with that, Nimueh disappeared, as quietly as she had appeared.  
Merlin was left scratching his head. How could he get a fifteen year old girl to listen to him? And, even worse, how could he make her believe his fantastical tale and not send his straight to the closest asylum? Well, the obvious answer was that he really couldn’t, not without kidnapping her and forcing her to listen, but how to do it without scaring her or making her hate him forever was the riddle that Merlin had to solve. As he thought back over some of the spells he had learned over the course of his long, long life, Merlin smiled as he found one that might just work. But, before he enchanted or kidnapped anyone, he wanted to get to know the girl who was supposedly Arthur’s equal in every respect. He transported himself back to his little cottage by the lake, and started working on his preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N First of all, I'm sorry for making the last chapter seem like a one shot, I wasn't aware that I had to check a box!!! Oops, my bad... The spell that Nimueh uses in this chapter is an Old English word for show. Disclaimer: I don't have a clue when it comes to Old English, so I used an online translator. I'm sorry for any mistakes!  
> Also, the names of the Gatekeepers are all of the different names for the Lady of the Lake in the Arthurian Legend; it's always bothered me to have that discrepancy, so this is my way of explaining...  
> Hope you guys all enjoy this chapter, and next one will be up as soon as I'm done!


	3. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens once Merlin goes to high school? And will he find the girl he's looking for?

Five Days Later- Washington State  
Her back ached, her neck was cricked, and she was pretty sure that her legs wouldn’t hold her, seeing as they had fallen asleep sometime during the long night Eleanor had spent sleeping by her window. Even worse, it was Monday and she had school. Groaning, she got up, stretching her sore muscles, and trying to wake up both of her legs. Going to the closet, she pulled out her jeans and a comfy navy blue cardigan. Pulling the clothing on, she quickly straightened her hair and applied her usual light makeup. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she nodded in approval and went downstairs to grab her lunch and eat some breakfast.   
"Hey Mom" she said, going over to hug her still sleepy mother. Nobody in her family, least of all Eleanor, was a morning person, and they all looked like a bunch of zombies first thing in the morning. In addition to Eleanor and her mom, her family was made up of her dad, still snoring in his bedroom upstairs, and Eleanor's two younger sister, who were wandering in the kitchen in various states of alertness. They were only a grade apart in school and a year and a half in age, so all three of them had always been pretty close, but the two of them shared a special bond, being twins, which left Eleanor always slightly on the outside. Not that you could tell that Cassandra (but everyone called her Cassie) and Phillipa (but everyone called her Pippa) were twins from the outside, because they looked nothing alike. However, it was in their personality that you could tell their closeness: they did everything together, from playing soccer to hanging out with friends, and one could literally finish the other’s thought. Eleanor had never really minded, because that meant that she still got to act like a big sister, despite their narrow age gap, but their close bond that morning also reminded her of her dream. Once again, she had had that dream, and could not remember! She only knew of the sense of closeness, love, and kinship that she had felt with those people in her dream, and she wanted, no she needed to know who they were, or else she was going to go insane.  
“Mom, don’t forget I’ve got the debate team meeting today, so I will need a ride home!” Eleanor reminded her mom, as she went upstairs to brush her teeth and grab her backpack.   
“Okay, just text me when you need me to pick you up, honey. Now hurry up, or we’re going to be late!” Her mom yelled at her. This was their usual routine, because Eleanor hated getting up in the morning and always stayed in bed far too long. This resulted in her being in a hurry every morning as it was time to leave, something that her mother always chided her for, but by now had just learned that it was her daughter’s way.   
As they drove into school, Eleanor zoned out, just staring aimlessly at the familiar mix of trees and quaint houses, but not really taking note of everything. She heard a song playing on the radio, but if you had asked her later what it was, she couldn’t have told you. She loved these few moments of not thinking on the ride to school, because usually she had 201 things running through her mind. But, as they pulled up to the school’s curb and she waved goodbye to her mom, she kept wondering about the dream. She never had had the same dream twice, and she wondered if it was important. But then, she didn’t even remember the dream, so how could she know it was? Asked the logical, analytical part of her brain, the one that loved to have everything in columns that added up to neat little sums. Her heart, the irrational, slightly reckless part of her that did not often see the light of day, was saying that it was the same dream instead. Torn, Eleanor walked over to her friends, who had been waving her over, and started talking about the usual before school topics: the latest gossip, boys, and how tired everyone was. At least they could keep her mind off that stupid dream, even for a little while.  
Merlin shifted his scratchy clothes for probably the umpteenth time that morning. The lady who had helped him pick them out at the store had called the uncomfortable, baggy pants jeans, and the shirt a t-shirt. It felt weird for him to look in a mirror, because he had only ever seen himself reflected in Arthur’s polished armor (it was always gleaming thanks to him, despite all of Arthur’s grumbles), and he had never had use for a mirror in his tiny, overstuffed cottage. However, with his brown leather jacket, red t-shirt, and jeans, he looked so alike to his old Camelot self that the first time he had seen himself it had knocked the breath out of him. The only thing that was missing with his neckerchief, which had been the butt of so many jokes from the knights and Arthur, and he felt like he was in Camelot. His surroundings didn’t help, either. When he had done a spell to find the location of the girl that Nimueh had showed him, he had found that she was living in Washington, in the New World. While he knew that it now was independent from Britain, and had been for quite some time too, Merlin hadn’t cared enough to actually keep up. For him, all that had mattered during the majority of his immortal life was the Lake, and if nothing happened there, then he assumed that nothing else was happening in the world. During one of his brief periods of traveling, he had visited the New World during the Salem witch trials, not that any of them were actual witches. Magic had long since gone from people, and now it lay dormant far beneath the Earth. Its last anchors were the Crystal Cave, the Lake, the Isle of the Blessed, and Merlin himself. However, his inability to help any of those accused had reminded him too much of Camelot, of its Great Purge and Merlin’s inability of helping many of the witches that Uther had sent to death. This had immediately sent Merlin back to the Lake of Avalon, and his little safe world. Now, his isolation had come back to haunt him, because he hadn’t the faintest clue of how to act or what the social norms were for this new century he found himself in. All that he knew as he walked to the school the girl was attending, was that he expected Arthur and his loyal knights to come charging out of the green trees that lined the road. But no, he had left them behind him when he had transported himself away from the lake, away from Albion (now called England) and now he had to learn how to be on his own, and quick. “Courage,” he thought, “I will see them all as soon as I complete this task.”  
He walked into the school, unsure and nervous to be in the middle of all of these shouting and excited people. He saw small groups, standing or sitting at tables, talking excitedly with the occasional burst of laughter. Everything about the school screamed the enthusiasm and exuberance of youth, and while Merlin did not look much older than the majority of kids at the school, his eyes told a different story. They carried with them the burdens of living so long, all the death, war, and atrocities he had witnessed. They were weary eyes, the eyes of an old man. As Merlin walked toward the office in order to obtain a schedule, he scanned the crowds for that girl who had haunted his mind ever since Nimueh had shown him her image. She was his ticket back to Camelot, back to the life and destiny which had been cut short with Arthur's untimely death.  
“Umm hello, I’m a new student,” Merlin said as he approached the kindly old lady sitting at the front desk.  
“My, nobody told me we were getting a new student! Welcome to Majesty Heights High School! Let me just look up your schedule really quickly! What’s your name?” asked the secretary. Merlin glanced back and quickly muttered a spell to make him appear to be in the database and have his schedule hopefully match the unknown girl’s. As he turned back around, he noticed the mural that made up the back of the school’s lunchroom. He grimaced as he noticed that it proudly pronounced “Majesty Heights, home of the Knights!” Go figure, he would end up at a school with knights as a mascot, as if he hadn’t had enough knights in his life.  
“It’s Merlin, Merlin Emrys, ma’am.” He said, giving a small smile to the secretary. She printed out a schedule quickly, and told him that first period would start in about ten minutes, and then proceeded to mark all of his classes on a map.   
As he was walking out, she asked, “Where does your name come from? It’s very interesting.”  
“It’s a Welsh name. My parents had some Welsh ancestors, so they named me after them.” He answered, wincing at the small lie he had to tell. Ever since Camelot, he hated any kind of lies whatsoever, and he hated lying to this woman even more because she had shown him nothing less than kindness.  
“Well good luck Merlin! I’m sure you will love it here!” She called out as Merlin left. He just nodded and headed off in the direction which the lady had said his first class was. Scanning faces, he kept looking for locks of honey brown hair, a shade different than any he had ever seen. The thing was, he had only seen her asleep, so he had no idea of what her face would actually look like when she was awake. As he heard the bell ring, he was disappointed that he had not gotten to get a good look at her, but resigned himself to wait until later. He turned to head back to his classroom, which he had apparently walked by without seeing it, only to have someone crash directly into him, scattering books and notebooks all over the floor. Immediately, he bent down to grab all of the stuff closest to him, and then handed it to the girl, who was muttering apologies under her breath. As she lifted up her face to thank him, he immediately recognized her from the vision. Her brown hair had been straightened, and her bangs kept falling over her right eye, but it framed her face perfectly. She smiled up at him, and he could almost feel the warmth of her smile. His gaze traveled up to her eyes, wide and trusting, which had crinkled up at the corners as she smiled. Despite her young age (well, compared to his very old one), he could read wisdom in the depths of her clear blue eyes. Merlin couldn’t help it, he smiled his first genuine smile in a long time in response. It was the same grin that had caused Arthur to call him an idiot so many times, and it had been a long time since he had smiled like that, he was half scared that he had forgotten how.  
Eleanor could not believe she had managed to full on run into this stranger. She had always been kind of clumsy, but this was taking it to a whole new level. She was too mortified to look him in the eyes as he was helping her pick up her things, but once they both straightened she couldn’t avoid it any longer. As she smiled her thanks, she realized that he must be a new student, since she had never seen him before. However, as she looked into his grey eyes, she would have sworn that she had seen him before, known him. She realized that she had been staring for a little too long, so she cleared her throat as she broke eye contact to cover it up. “I’m so sorry for completely running into you!” she said  
“It’s okay” he said, shaking his head, indicating that it was no big deal.  
“Well, I’m Eleanor, but most of my friends call me Ellie” she said, shifting her books to her left arm and extending her right arm.  
“Merlin, it’s nice to meet you Ellie.” He smiled again, then went on, “You wouldn’t happen to know the fastest way to English 10 with Mr. Timothy, would you? I fear being late is not the best way to make a first impression.”  
“Yes, I have that class too! Here follow me, we have two minutes till the bell rings.” Eleanor said, as she set off at a rapid pace down the hallway.  
Merlin followed her, mentally shaking his head at how he had met her. While he had spent the whole morning looking for her, he had run into her at the last possible moment. And her name! One of Eleanor’s literal meanings was highness, as in what you would address a queen. Sometimes, the fates must have a good laugh at him, seeing the tangles and knots his life seemed to twist itself in. Majesty Heights, home of the Knights, Eleanor… It was all too much for him not to believe that someone was having a good laugh at his expense.   
They made it into the classroom in the nick of time, just as the bell was ringing. To Merlin’s good fortune, the only free spots were two desks side by side in the back of the classroom, so he followed Eleanor and sat beside her. As the teacher started reading off the announcements, he and Eleanor talked a little bit about each other’s backgrounds, and he grew to like her even more. She definitely had the talents of a queen, a leader, he thought, as she rattled off a list of clubs and activities of which she was a part of, and her dream jobs. She had a kind of natural quality, something that Guinevere had always lacked, because it was a trait you were born with. While Guinevere had been a good and just queen, she had lacked the natural trait of leadership and intuitiveness that set both Arthur and Eleanor apart from other leaders. Merlin was snapped back to reality from a sharp jab from Eleanor’s elbow.  
“Owww! What you do that for?” He asked, laughing good naturally along with her.   
“Shhh! He’s talking about the new unit” Eleanor said, trying to keep in the giggles. Merlin’s facial expression when she’d elbowed him was just too good. She couldn’t believe that they had known each other only for half an hour, and yet they were talking like old friends, like they had all of the time in the world and were comfortable enough to talk about anything. However, their conversation was interrupted by Mr. Timothy.  
“Alright, quiet down guys. So today, we’re going to be doing something different. We’re going to read some of the different versions of the Arthurian legends, so pay attention!” He said, turning around to turn on the projector. At the clearing of some throats from the class, he turned back around and asked, “Is something the matter?” He followed the direction of the students’ gazes to the back of the classroom, where Merlin and Eleanor were sitting.  
“Oh, I see we have a new student! Welcome to Majesty Heights! I’m Mr. Timothy, and your name is…?” asked Mr. Timothy, smiling welcoming at Merlin.  
Merlin glanced over at Eleanor, who was trying to control her laughter. In all honesty, he was about to laugh too. At this point, it was either laughing or crying, and he would rather not cry in front of all these strangers. I mean, he was about to study a very convoluted version of his life story! How many people had the chance to say that? Realizing that all of the class’ eyes were on him, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m Merlin, sir, Merlin Emrys.” He could not control the chuckle that escaped, and that seemed to unleash Eleanor’s giggles, because she started laughing so hard that tears were streaming out of her eyes. Mr. Timothy chuckled as well, and was soon joined by the rest of the class.  
“Well, it seems that you might be an expert in our new subject matter, Mr. Emrys.” Mr. Timothy said, calling the class back to attention. Eleanor stopped laughing, wiping the tears from her eyes, and could not look at Merlin without laughing again. Smiling, Merlin tore out a piece of notebook paper from one of his notebooks. He quickly scrawled down “I hate the Arthurian legends”, and then, taking advantage of Mr. Timothy being distracted in passing out books, he slipped it onto Eleanor’s desk. She glanced up at him asking with her eyes, but he only inclined his head toward the piece of paper. She opened it, and read his short note. She looked at him again, laughter in her eyes, then grabbed a pen and wrote down her own message. As Mr. Timothy neared their seat with the books, she put it directly into Merlin’s hand. Merlin felt the smallness of her slender hands, the softness of a hand that had never done the rough work that Merlin’s hands had gone through. “I’ve always thought that Arthur seemed like an arrogant prat” he read. At that, he could not contain his laughter, because how many times had he said the exact same thing, sometimes to Arthur’s own face? Too many to count. With this, he knew without a shadow of doubt that she was more than equal to be Arthur’s wife and queen, as she would not let his ego grow too big, just as he had done.   
“Is there something you wish to share with the class, Mr. Emrys?” asked Mr. Timothy, standing in front of Merlin’s and Eleanor’s desks with two books. At Merlin’s quick headshake, he dropped the books in front of them and said: “Then, pay closer attention, please.”  
As he turned around to stand in front of the projector, Merlin leaned over and quickly whispered in Eleanor’s ear: “I agree”. As she turned around to face him, he winked at her, and then opened his book at the page Mr. Timothy was saying.   
As it turned out, English was the only class that Merlin and Eleanor had together. They spent the entire periods comparing things they both hated about the version of the Arthurian legend they were reading in class. Making fun of the more absurd plot points as he was passing notes with Eleanor helped Merlin keep his mind off the overwhelming nostalgia he felt whenever he heard a familiar name. At times like these, Merlin was extremely glad that names like Lancelot, Guinevere, and Gwaine had gone out of fashion, but, unfortunately, he still met too many Arthurs for his peace of mind. The whole period had just confirmed what he was thinking earlier, that the universe had it out for him in some way, because how else would he explain this series of events? Fortunately, the rest of the day had gone smoothly, with him fading into the background in each class. Now, it was lunchtime, and Merlin was determined to finish the next part of his plan. He looked around for Eleanor, and could not find her at first. It was only as he heard her sweet laugh behind him that he located her, sitting at a table with nine other girls, all laughing at something the blond girl was showing them on her phone. Merlin walked towards the table, waiting for Eleanor to look up and acknowledge him. She did so after a minute or so, and smiled at him.  
“Eleanor, could I borrow you for a minute?” He asked when he reached her side. The other girls all stopped talking and stared at him, then looked back at Eleanor, raising their eyebrows and inquiring of the meaning behind this strange guy wanting to talk to her alone.   
“Sure thing, Merlin. I’ll be right back, you guys.” She said, getting up from her seat, leaving behind all her stuff. She trusts these people, thought Merlin, glad to see that she had such good friends to rely on. He led her back to their English class, which was empty at the moment.   
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Eleanor asked.  
“I have to tell you something, Eleanor, but first, I’m sorry” Merlin replied, not meeting Eleanor’s blue eyes.  
“Sorry for what?” She asked  
“For this: mamera!” He yelled, his eyes flaring the bright red-gold of flames as he cast the spell in a long gone language. Eleanor’s face briefly turned to fear before rolling back into her head as she crumpled to the ground. Leaping over, Merlin caught her before she hit the ground. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, apologizing for his method. This had been the best way of getting her to come with him to the Lake of Avalon.  
“Gelíobisen!” He whispered once again. Looking at the results of his spell, he nodded, satisfied with himself. Then, he and the sleeping girl in his arms disappeared, leaving behind no traces of their presence in the English classroom.  
“There you are, Eleanor! We were starting to worry about you!” said Alexa, one of the girls Eleanor had been sitting with earlier. “What did the new guy want?” she went on, not waiting for an answer.  
“What guy? I just went to the bathroom!” Eleanor said, picking up her stuff. “Anyways, that’s the bell, so let’s go to homeroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spells:  
> Gelíobisen, copy or imitation  
> Mamera- lethargy, heavy sleep  
> So Merlin has found his girl, but what does he need her for? And how is he going to explain?   
> Hope you guys all enjoy the story! Comments/reviews are always appreciated!


	4. The Cabin In The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a destiny is revealed...

The Next Day…  
Eleanor woke up slowly, feeling groggy. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and the light from the window had woken her up. She felt around the nightstand with her hand for her phone, her eyes not yet open. The wood felt weird, not the normal polished blackwood nightstand that she picked out four years before. She must be less awake, she thought, shrugging the matter off. Not finding it, she turned on her side, trying to extend her reach. However, she felt something weird, like bed curtains, blocking her hand. Since when did she have bed curtains? Curious, she opened her eyes, and found herself in a bed that was most definitely not her own. She was surrounded by deep red curtains, and her comforter was a soft velvet of the same control. The same color surrounded her head, as it was on the pillows, which were also emblazoned with a weird golden crest representing a dragon. Eleanor was tempted to scream, because she was in a bed that she did not recognize and had no idea of how she’d gotten there, but she managed to hold it in. She tried keeping calm, but being kidnapped had definitely not been on her to do list! At least, she was still wearing the clothes she had worn yesterday, which probably meant that the person who had kidnapped her had not really touched her. Yet. She sat up on the bed, and then parted slowly parted the curtain, trying not to alert her kidnapper to the fact that she was awake. She slowly peered around the curtain, but did not see anyone in the room with her. Drawing a breath of relief, Eleanor sat up in bed, her navy cardigan trailing behind her. The room she found herself in was much bigger than her own, and it featured the gold crest Eleanor had noticed on the pillows as well as the deep red color prominently. The room was dominated by the huge mahogany four poster bed from which Eleanor had just gotten up from. All of the other furniture in the room was made of the same dark mahogany, with intricate patterns and an olden hunting lodge feel. Apart from the bed, the room wad furnished with a tall armoire on the wall opposite to the bed, a red and gold screen (which Eleanor assumed was used for changing, but she had never seen one before outside of a movie), and a wooden desk in the corner, facing the door. Also, behind the desk, were two huge windows, which were letting in the sunshine that had woken Eleanor up. As soon as Eleanor realized what those windows meant, she crossed over to them. She started trying to find a way to open them, but could find no latch, no way to open. She pushed on the glass, trying to break it perhaps, but it did not shatter. Well, that was a problem. It seemed that she was at whoever had kidnapped her mercy, a fact that she did not like. Not one bit. Turning back to the windows, she saw that she was on the first floor of what looked like a cottage at the edge of the forest. To one side, she could see a tall forest that stretched for miles, while on the other side, she saw a lake shrouded in mists with an island in its middle. Tall mountains framed the scene, giving Eleanor a false sense of peace. It would have been a place that she would have enjoyed were she not being held against her will, with no clue to her actual location. How far had she traveled? The last memories she had was of Merlin, the new kid, telling her that he had to tell her something, that he was sorry? No, that didn’t make sense. He never told her what he meant, did he? Was he somehow responsible for her kidnapping? No, he couldn’t be. They had been alone in the room, at least as far as she could see, and he had not touched her nor did he give her anything. Then how was she kidnapped? Deciding that action was the best course at this point, she crossed over to the heavy wooden doors, and, finding them unlocked, she stepped out into the hallway.  
Merlin was in the kitchen, humming along a song he had heard while visiting Eleanor’s high school. He was making tea on the old fashioned stove he had installed sometimes over the last century, because, while he had mostly secluded himself from the world, he had not denied himself the modern comforts. Today, he was wearing some kind of loose pants whose name he had not bothered to learn, a navy oversize sweater, and his old man disguise. He had decided that his old man disguise might be easier for Eleanor to accept, would help her feel less threatened. Then, once he had gained her trust and explained her destiny, he would reveal his true form. He hated to place such a heavy burden on the shoulders of a young girl, but he would do whatever was necessary in order to return to Camelot, to get his second chance.  
Overall, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had a tiny feeling of hope, fluttering like tiny little butterflies with each beat of his heart. He had a purpose, something he had been missing. He set the croissant on the tray, as well as the tea cup and the marmalade, and then proceeded to make his way towards Eleanor’s room. He had created the room in the Renaissance, during one of his most powerful spells of nostalgia for Camelot, so much so that he had almost been tempted to go back. Almost being the key word. He had sealed up the castle and the citadel the day Guinevere, the last of his friends, had died, and nobody had set foot in it since then. Instead, he had done the next best thing. He had expanded his tiny cottage to create a room for Arthur once he came back, and had spent almost a decade trying to find furniture that recreated the one from Arthur’s room in Camelot, so he would have something familiar on his first night back. That had helped assuage the nostalgia, but once he was done, he had rarely set foot in the room again, unable to stop the rush of memories of early mornings and late nights spent with Arthur, trying to get the lazy clotpole out of bed or helping him plan some mission. For lack of a better space, he had put Eleanor in there, and now he was taking breakfast to her. Would the similarities never end? However, it seemed that history, in this case, would not repeat itself. As he was walking in the narrow hallway leading to the back of the house and Arthur’s bedroom (for it could be no other), he almost spilled the breakfast tray on Eleanor, who was determinedly marching in the opposite direction.  
“Who are you?” Eleanor asked, her nose held high and her voice firm and proud. Merlin admired her for her calm under pressure, and her determination to not take things lying down. There were very few people he had known, in all of his long time on Earth who would have snapped back so quickly in a situation as confusing and intimidating such as the one that Eleanor found herself in. But she, she was all cold fury and indignation at being held against her will. And, if Merlin didn’t miss his guess, she also had already formulated at least two plans for escape. Arthur would have had a similar reaction, except he would be wacking Merlin with a sword by now. Well, Eleanor looked mad enough to do just that, and Merlin was glad that she did not have anything sharp within her reach.  
“My name is Dragoon, my lady, and I could ask the same thing to you, especially since this is my house after all!” Merlin said, slipping effortlessly into his old man alter ego from Camelot, forgetting none of his usual grouchiness.  
“Well, my name is Eleanor and I demand to know why I’m being held against my will!” She said, a hint of steel beneath her voice.  
“Lady, nobody is forcing you to stay least of all to stay, least of all me. Ha! As if these old bones could hold anybody against their will!” Eleanor nodded, pondering his statement and seeing the truth behind it. “No, I was just being hospitable as a favor to a friend. See, I knew I shouldn’t have done it, being hospitable always ends badly for me!” Merlin went on, “Would I bring breakfast to a prisoner, eh, miss? No? Youth today, always so ungrateful!” Merlin loved playing the old man, it brought out the inner actor in him, and he really sold it this time. Eleanor looked almost ashamed of herself, which made Merlin feel slightly bad about his performance but it would help her trust him.  
“Well, I guess not…” Eleanor said, seeing the truth behind the old man’s words. His presence had helped assuage some of her worst fears, because she believed that he did not mean her any harm. He was an harmless old man, for Pete’s sake, he probably couldn’t hurt a fly! She followed him down the hallway to a cozy kitchen that looked like it had never seen the twenty-first century. She was slightly less wary now, because she believed the old man meant her no harm, but it still did not explain how she had come to his house. As she followed relatively willingly, Merlin felt like he had won this point. He put the tray down on his rickety old table, with the four mismatched chairs, and forced Eleanor to sit.  
“Now, would you like anything else to go with your breakfast?” Merlin asked, as he was puttering around his kitchen, cleaning up from his earlier cooking.  
“Umm, no, I think I’m okay…” replied Eleanor, slightly bewildered at the strange old man. She stared at her breakfast, instead, unsure whether it would be safe to eat or not. She wanted to trust the old man, but her common sense would not let her. She was in a strange place, had no clue how she had gotten there, or who the old man was beyond his name. Heck, she didn’t even know what day it was, or if she was still in the same state! That, naturally, made everything kind of hard to swallow, so she just stared at the breakfast tray, hoping it might provide her with an answer.  
She was interrupted by the old man’s rough voice: “Well, go on girl, eat it!” Merlin sensed her uncertainty, so he continued, “I didn’t poison nor did I spit in it, so you have nothing to fear from it!” Sensing the old man’s wounded pride at her doubt in his motives, Eleanor gathered enough courage and took a sip of the tea while opening the jar of marmalade. The tea tasted normal, so she figured that it was a safe as she could figure out at the moment. As she smelled a whiff of the delicious strawberry marmalade, she realized how hungry she actually was. The last meal she remembered eating had been lunch the previous day, and her stomach was ravenous. She wolfed down the breakfast without speaking another word to the old man. Merlin smiled, letting Eleanor collect her thoughts. He knew that this was just the calm before the storm, having lived for years with first Arthur and then Gwen. She was marshaling her thoughts, preparing for the next move, and coming up with a plan. During his brief conversations with Eleanor this morning, Merlin had revised his earlier opinion of her. She was not exactly like Arthur, like his first impressions, but was rather a mix of Arthur and Guinevere, combining Arthur’s rashness and charisma with Gwen’s wisdom and fairness, adding a dash of curiosity and tenacity that was all hers.  
He wasn’t disappointed. As soon as she finished eating, she placed her utensils on top of the tray, and turned around, asking: “So, where exactly am I? And if you don’t mind, can you point me to the nearest telephone? I really must call my family, they’re going to be worried sick!” Eleanor said. As she talked about her family, it really hit home how worried her parents must be. She felt homesick, so much that she had to blink back tears. She was not going to cry in front of this stranger, she was not. She had never been a crier, and the fact that this situation drove her to it drove home how far away from home she really was.  
“I cannot…” Merlin replied, trying to gentle his rough voice. There were no telephone stations in any directions for miles, since the cabin was located in the middle of a forest that Merlin had conjured many years before to completely hide the location of Avalon. Eleanor, however, took this in a different way. She believed that Merlin was deliberately not helping her contact her family, thus keeping her trapped with him. Merlin saw only a flash of powerlessness, anger, and sadness cross her face, before she once again hid her feelings. She was good at masking them, her face near expressionless, but not as good as Arthur or Guinevere in her years as queen. She lacked the practice that those two had had, and it was partly due to her youth. However, Merlin thought that her failure at hiding her emotions also had to be a part of her upbringing and times, she never had to face the perils or pressures that Arthur and Gwen had dealt with on a daily basis.  
“Cannot? More like, will not! Fine, don’t help me, I’ll find it by myself!” Eleanor huffed, as she got up. Her motions were sharp and calculated, yet Merlin could still read the anger in each movement. She stormed to the door, grabbing her shoes in the process.  
“We are surrounded by woods for miles. That would not be a wise choice, Lady Alienore of Lyonesse” Merlin said as Eleanor was opening the door, without glancing up from his dishes.  
Eleanor stopped. That obviously wasn’t her name, not even close, but somehow, a part of her responded to that name. It was achingly familiar, hovering right at the edge of her memories, but she could not grasp it. She turned back around, not letting go of her grip on the door. Her eyes were wide, silently asking an explanation for the weird feelings that the name was giving her.  
Merlin knew of the internal struggle that was going for Eleanor. She was special, Nimueh had told him, because she had walked the Earth twice. Her soul was split into two fragments, each residing in a different age: one had beenen found in Alienore of Lyonesse in Merlin's youth, the other stood right in front of him as Eleanor Hayden. Alienore of Lyonesse, not possessing the entirety of the remarkable soul that stood in front of Merlin now, had died young, before her destiny was completed, kidnapped and killed by a band of Saxons before she could become Queen of Lyonesse. And then now, as Eleanor Hayden, the bright soul that stood in front of him, unknowingly missing its medieval half. His mission was to take her soul back into her original body, and then make sure that Alienore of Lyonesse eventually found her way to Camelot, and Arthur. Of course, he was only going to tell her that she had an important part to play in shaping Albion, not that she was meant to be Arthur’s soul mate. Knowing human nature as well as someone who had lived for over a millennium, Eleanor (or Alienore, her true name) would go the opposite direction each time she saw Arthur, which would defeat the whole purpose. Merlin waited as Eleanor regained some composure after being faced with her true name, and waited for her inevitable questions. He was starting to sense that she hated waiting, by the speed that her question came at him.  
“What did you call me?” Eleanor asked, willing the old man to look up and meet her eyes so that she might read what was going on behind those ancient, yet still alert, grey orbs.  
“Lady Alienore, Crown Princess of Lyonesse. It is your true name, my lady.” Merlin said, avoiding her eyes yet. He knew it would just build on her frustration and suspense, keeping her interested. This was proven as she let go of the door and took a couple of hesitant steps forward, unconsciously inching toward him.  
“No, my name is Eleanor, Eleanor Hayden. I’m not a princess, never have been and never will be!” Eleanor said.  
“On the contrary, my lady. You were Alienore of Lyonesse in the 6th Century A.D.” Merlin said, finally meeting her eyes.  
“Then how come I don’t remember being a lady, a princess, in the Dark Ages?” Eleanor asked, using the logic that had gotten her through life so far. Merlin smiled, because with magic, there was no logic, no way to have it make sense in neat little rows and columns, like Eleanor liked.  
“That’s because you haven’t been one yet…” Merlin proceeded to explain all that Nimueh had told him about Alienore’s destiny and her role in Arthur’s destiny, leaving out the part about her and Arthur being soul mates. He didn’t hold anything back from what he knew about her life, apart her relationship with Arthur, since she was not going to remember any of their conversations in the past. That had been part of his sleeping spell, that while Alienore would still remember Eleanor once she and Merlin returned to their old selves, she would not remember the day she spent in the cabin with the old man, when she had learned everything about magic and the mysteries of the world. All she would know is that she had been sent back by the Gatekeepers of Avalon to fulfill her true purpose. All Merlin had to do now was reassure her so that she would come willingly to the Isle of the Blessed, so that they could both be sent back.  
“Even if I believed what you are saying, which I don’t, how do I know you’re saying the truth?” asked Eleanor some time later. While she wasn’t completely running away from Merlin, she was looking at him like he belonged in an asylum, and disbelief was etched on all her features. “Plus, magic isn’t real” she repeated, more to convince herself than to rebutt any of Merlin’s explanations. Eleanor didn’t know what to think, not anymore. On the one hand, she knew magic didn’t exist, that it was the stuff of fairytales her grandmother read to her before bed when she was younger. On the other hand, all of the words he was saying resonated within her, made sense on a deeper level than just logic. It appealed to the part of her that sought a magical adventure, the one that had searched through closets for a week in order to find Narnia after seeing The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. (She had been 5 and convinced that the antique closet her grandma owned was the same one as in the movie) She tried to keep that adventurous, almost reckless side of her, buried most of the time, but now she literally had the chance to make those dreams come true, if she listened to what the old man was saying. If he was saying the truth, her brain reminded her. Eleanor didn’t know who to trust, her brain or her heart, and was thus being pulled apart in so many directions.  
“Would you tell me that you do not respond to the name Alienore? That you did not fell a sense of familiarity as I told you of her life, her family, her loves?” Seeing her hesitation, Merlin knew that he had described her feelings perfectly, so he went on, pressing his advantage: “You can’t explain away those feelings, Alienore, any less than you can explain this.” With that, his eyes flashed red-gold and all of the objects in the room started floating, spinning around the table at which Eleanor and Merlin sat.  
Eleanor gasped. How had the old man done that? She had seen his eyes flash in a way that she was sure was not natural. Then, all of the objects in the room had started floating around, banging into each other, and making a lot of noise and confusion. The old man let her gaze, silently challenging her to deny that magic was happening around her. Seeing her inability to talk, he flicked his head, and all of the objects dropped, clattering to the floor.  
“Th-that was magic! It had to be! B-b-but how?” Eleanor asked. She had to believe the old man now, there was no way possible that he had done that, unless he had used magic. That would mean that the story he had told her was true as well. Her mind went round and around in circles, trying to accept the magic yet trying not to at the same time. Suddenly, she decided that she was done questioning. She hated the feeling of confusion, of indecisiveness, so she followed what her heart was telling her and decided to believe whole-heartedly in the strange, fantastical story the old man had told her. She was Alienore of Lyonesse, Crown Princess, and Eleanor Hayden at the same time, and she accepted that now. How or why was not important, not now. As she came to her realization, Merlin saw her sit up straighter, hold her head higher. Inwardly, he smiled, seeing the Queen inside of her once again coming to the forefront.  
“There is much about the world you do not know, milady.” Merlin said, keeping his answer vague.  
“I believe you, old man. I have just one question left for you: who are you and why are you so interested in me?” asked Alienore.  
Merlin knew that this question would eventually come up, and he knew that he would have to show him his actual form. So, in response to her question, and strode to the door as quickly as his old bones let him. Seeing that Alienore had not yet moved, he turned around and told her, “Well, follow me girl! And try to keep up!” Merlin said. She quickly got up and followed him out the door, her longer footsteps quickly overtaking Merlin’s slower ones. She slowed her pace to match his, and quietly walked beside him, as absorbed in her thoughts as Merlin was in his. Merlin was bringing her to the Lake, of course. But instead of bringing her to the closest spot, which was just a few steps away from his front door, he was taking her to a special place. It was painful for him to go back, which is why he only went once a decade or so, and he had never shown it to anybody else. However, he felt the need for Alienore to see it, to understand. It was, of course, the spot where Merlin had said his last goodbye to Arthur, where he had been forced to kill Morgana, once his friend, and then his greatest enemy. As he reached it, marked a pentagon of druid runes on trees, he sat down on his usual stump. Alienore, not seeing another place to sit, came to stand beside him.  
“What do you see, milady?” Merlin asked.  
“A lake” Alienore said, looking around, “It’s beautiful, haunting, and sad.”  
“Indeed. Do you know what it’s called?” Merlin asked. Alienore shook her head, unsure of the meaning of the lake. What did this have to do with the old man’s identity?  
“This lake has long been forgotten by people, lost in the woods. However, a long time ago, they called it Avalon.” Merlin said, looking Alienore right in the eye. He willed her to realize the significance of Avalon, of what it meant.  
“Avalon,” thought Alienore. She had heard the name before, had seen a drawing of it. She turned around, glancing at the island with its lonely pillar, in the middle of the lake. As the clouds shifted and a ray of sunlight illuminated the pillar. That made it click in Alienore’s mind, the picture looked like the drawing in the book they had read in her English class. The Arthurian legends, which said that King Arthur’s final resting place was Avalon. That would make the old man, the guardian of the lake, Merlin.  
“And I am Emrys, the Immortal One, its eternal guardian. But, you may have heard of me by another name…” Merlin went on. Alienore noticed that his voice sounded different, less rough and scratchy, but she couldn’t explain why.  
“You are Merlin.” Alienore said, turning around. She was shocked to see that the old man was gone, nowhere in sight. Instead, Merlin Emrys, the new guy at school was sitting on the stump, looking at her. His face was emotionless, but he just nodded as she called him by his true name. However, she noticed something about him that she hadn’t before. While his face and lanky frame pronounced his youth, his eyes told a different story. Despite the unlined skin around them, those grey orbs were ancient, as if they had seen many battles and knew the burdens of living, of losing people he loved. They haunted Alienore, eyes so old in one so young. They reminded her of the eyes of the old man, and then she knew.  
“I am Merlin, former manservant and advisor of King Arthur Pendragon, and I am Emrys, the greatest and last sorcerer the world has ever known. That is why I took an interest in you, Lady Alienore. You have a part to play, a destiny to fulfill, as do I. We shall be returning together.” Merlin said, watching her face to gauge her reaction.  
“You were the old man too.” Alienore simply stated. Being surprised was beyond her after the day she’d had. She just accepted this further development.  
“Yes. When you first arrived, I thought you would feel safer with my old man disguise. However, the time quickly approaches when you must make your choice: will you accompany me to the past to fulfill your destiny, Alienore?” Merlin asked, staring her down. “Once you make your choice, it will be final.” Merlin said, seeing the shadow of doubt cross her face. He could see that she was close to following her heart, her sense of adventure, but that something was anchoring her back. He shifted slightly, aware of his discomfort at being at a place so full of memories, of sadness. Looking towards the lake, he wished once again that one of his friends was here. Any of them would have known exactly what to say to convince Alienore once and for all. Arthur would have brooked no argument, Guinevere would have had a kind word of sympathy, Lancelot’s honesty would have shined through his brown eyes, and Gwaine would have had the perfect joke to lighten the mood. Instead, Merlin stood in awkward silence, wishing desperately that Alienore would say yes, would know how much he needed her to, without him sounding so desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank you all so much for reading this story and also apologize for how long this update took! Okay, so the name Alienore is actually the same as Eleanor (Eleanor literally means the other Alinor, a different form of the same name), and I picked it so there could be a marked difference between the two characters, the past and the present. From now on, I use the name Alienore when I'm referring to Eleanor because she's kind of thinking in that mode, and will be during her stay in the past. (In the story, I switched in the middle after she accepted what Merlin told her). Anyways, hope.that you're all enjoying the story, and feel free to ask me any questions, comment or concern!


	5. Reminiscing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some mild swearing

“Would you mind if I took a minute, to think about it?” Alienore asked. He shook his head no, not trusting himself to speak. He looked over the lake, the lake with its mystical island in the middle, the image that was forever burned in his mind. He could never forget this lake, not if he lived for another thousand years. Its image was forever etched behind his eyelids, burned by repeated viewing over the course of the centuries. The first time, he had walked by it as a young man, heading towards Camelot, full of hope for his future. He had come back for the first time to save Arthur, the man to whom his destiny was forever intertwined, a man who had become closer than a brother, from the Sidhe. Back then, he still had a hope of Albion, of the future king that Arthur was going to be. Over the next ten years, Merlin had come back at odd intervals, each time to bury a friend. Freya, Lancelot, Will, Elyan, each of them had taken a little bit of his heart went them in the depths of that lake, and his outlook had become a little bit dimmer. But, the promise of Albion still loomed large, and that was what got Merlin through his grief each time. Then, the day everything changed. Camlann, and its terrible aftermath. A desperate race against time, only Merlin and Arthur against the world, and the revelation of the last secret Merlin held. All of that had ended here, in the very spot in which Merlin now stood, with the death of a friend turned mortal enemy, and the first and last thank you from his king. As he saw the light leave the blue eyes of his king, he screamed out for the destiny he had lost, cut short by Arthur’s untimely death. While with each death of one of his friends, Merlin had buried a fragment of his heart with them, he felt a large chunk of his heart torn out, left here, on the shore of the lake of Avalon. All his work, all his faith, his and Arthur’s commitment to build Avalon, all of it was gone. As dead as the king that Merlin still held in his arms. He heard the sound of sobbing, and soon realized that it was his own tears he was hearing, as they coursed down his cheeks. The dragon arrived, somehow finding space to land in the small clearing. Merlin turned his tear stained face toward him, not caring what he would think, to ask one last favor of him. The dragon willingly accepted, carrying both Arthur and Merlin to the Lake of Avalon. On the ride over, Merlin couldn’t help but think how much Arthur would have loved the exhilaration that came from riding on the dragon’s back, and teared up once again when he realized that Arthur would never find out, never experience anything again. The ride felt like years for Merlin, who had to anchor Arthur’s body to the dragon as well as his own, but it was only a few minutes. He was losing feeling in his arms, holding on to the dead weight that was Arthur’s body, as well as supporting Arthur on their trip north to the lake. As he dragged Arthur, the dragon called him back for one last piece of advice, reassuring him that Albion had indeed come to pass. In that moment, Merlin did not care about Albion or destiny. He just wanted his friend back.

               “No man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. Some lives have been foretold, Merlin. Arthur is not just a king, he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, Merlin, for when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. It has been a privilege to know you, young warlock. The story we have been a part of, will live long in the minds of men.” And with a last incline of his head, the dragon spread his wings and flew away one last time. Merlin watched as his old friend flew away, until he was no more than a speck in the sky, and realized that Kilgharrah too had been saying goodbye. He paused, shedding a tear for another friend lost, and then picked up Excalibur, Kilgharrah’s greatest gift to him and Arthur. He stared at the weapon, the most powerful sport on Earth, which if in the wrong hands, could cause much strife. This was the sword he had used to kill Morgana, the sword that had killed Mordred, the sword that Arthur had wielded. Without a conscious thought, he brought the sword back and threw into the lake, a safe place into which he had consigned the sword once before. A hand shot up, catching the sword and bringing it down into the depths of the lake. The Lady of the Lake would keep the sword safe until Arthur rose again, if what Kilgharrah had said was true. There was just one thing left to do. He summoned the canoe, and gently placed his king inside. It was winter, and there were no branches or flowers to decorate the bed as Merlin had done with the others. It was shame that Arthur, the brightest of them all, would have such a simple funeral boat, but it was a testimonial to Arthur as well, of his kingship. Seeing Arthur so still, his forehead so cold to the touch, was the last nail in the coffin. He broke down sobbing, as he whispered his name for the last time: “Arthur **. In sibbe gerest**.” The boat slowly started moving, but Merlin turned away his eyes blinded by tears. By the time he turned back, it was too late to catch of a last glimpse of the sun glinting off the polished armor, off Arthur’s shining blond hair. He broke down, falling to the ground and crying.

               It was Percival who found him the next day. He did not remember falling asleep, but exhaustion from crying must have eventually lulled him to an uneasy sleep. Percival must have moved him as well, because Merlin was now sleeping with a blanket, his head cushioned by a saddlebag. He was sitting on a stump, by a small fire he must have started. Percival was cooking breakfast, and the smell of food alerted Merlin’s stomach that it had not eaten in over 24 hours. As his stomach rumbled, Percival turned to look at him. The look in his eyes started a feeling of dread in the pit of Merlin’s stomach, because reflected in his eyes was the same look that Merlin imagined was in his own. Percival had lost a friend, and a close one. That left four options: Gwen, Gaius, Leon, or Gwaine. The only question that remained was:

               “Who?” Merlin simply said, his voice raspy and croaky due to his tears the night before.

               Percival averted his eyes, staring into the fair. The big man, always so strong, so kind, looked on the point of breaking, a place Merlin knew too well. His own heart had been shattered the night before, half of his heart gone. He knew that whichever name would come out of Percival’s mouth would chip away even more of his fragile heart, so he braced himself for the answer. “Gwaine.” Percival whispered, almost to himself. Merlin gasped, feeling the name hit him like a blow to the gut. No, no, no! Not Gwaine, with his ready smile and chatter, but also his nobility and kindness. Gwaine, who was Merlin’s biggest friend after Arthur, who had once called Merlin his only friend. Another light gone, another friend missing from the Round Table. Merlin felt the tears, of which he thought he could shed no more, pooling once more in his eyes.

               But Percival wasn’t done. In the same soft voice, he asked: “And the king?” although he already knew the answer, having seen Merlin alone, but needed confirmation from Merlin. Not trusting himself to speak, Merlin simply shook his head. Percival didn’t say anything, just got up and punched the tree behind him a couple times. Then, he sank down to the ground and buried his face in his hands. Merlin, his hunger forgotten, got up and sat down by him. He didn’t touch him or say anything, just stared at the lake and its island, but provided the silent comfort of companionship, of shared grief. Of course, there was no way for anyone to share Merlin’s grief, he was going to have to watch all of them die one day, without aging a day himself. But, for now, he could help ease some of Percival’s grief.

               It was close to nightfall by the time somebody spoke. Percival, getting up from the seat he had occupied all day, said: “Will” and clearing his throat, started over “Will you help me bury Gwaine?” He asked, not awaiting an answer and not needing one. Merlin nodded, more of a show than anything, and called for the boat once more. Percival headed to where he had left his horses, and returned with Gwaine’s body in his strong arms. To see Gwaine, always cheery, without a smile almost broke Merlin again, but this time he held in his tears. It was sunset, which meant he had lived an entire day without Arthur. Was it going to get any easier? No, he knew the answer. It wasn’t going to get easier, not until Arthur returned from the lake. They laid Gwaine down, and then watched as he too floated away, taken by the mists. Once they could no longer see him, Percival broke the silence. “He died thinking he was a traitor, for it was he that told Morgana where you were heading. She tortured him to the brink of death, until he let it slip. He died, thinking himself a traitor to his king and friends.” Percival said, a single tear running down his cheek.

               Merlin put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and said: “He didn’t betray Arthur. It was too late anyways, we would have never made it to the lake.” With that, they returned to their campsite, and settled down for the night.

               The next day, Merlin avoided Percival as he saw the unasked question in his eyes. Was he going to return with the knight? Could he go to Camelot, see the castle, the lower town, Gwen, Leon and realize Arthur was never going to be there with them again? But, could he leave Gwen, Arthur’s queen and his oldest friend, all alone as she faced the start of her reign and the loss of her husband all at once? Merlin knew that no matter what happened, he would always be there for his friends, especially when he knew he would have time to grieve for all of them later, when he was alone and they were all gone. Plus, what had Arthur said? Never change. And the Merlin that Arthur knew would have gone back to Camelot and done everything he could to help Gwen, just as he’d always helped Arthur. So no, in Merlin’s eyes, he didn’t really have a choice. He helped Percival pack up the saddlebags, and then followed him to the horses.

               “So, you’re coming back?” Percival asked, breaking the silence. Merlin nodded, and started saddling up the spare horse, the one that had belonged to Gwaine. They rode mostly in silence, each aware of the others’ grief, and did not stop. The reached Camelot at sunset, stopping to see the sun set over the castle as it came into their line of sight. There was no one to meet them in the courtyard, but they left the horses to a couple of grooms that came out of the stables. They walked up the steps, not seeing anyone and not needing any directions to the Queen. It was as if the whole of Camelot was holding its breath, hoping that the news Merlin and Percival brought would contradict their fears, their dread. But of course, the worst had happened, and anybody who saw the two men riding alone with grave faces knew it. As Merlin knocked softly on the door of Arthur’s former bedroom, now solely Gwen’s, Percival asked if he should remain. Merlin responded that he would prefer that Percival be there, to deliver the news of Gwaine.

               A soft “Enter” came from inside, and Merlin pushed the door open as he had done countless of times before. Gwen was sitting at the table, with Leon behind her, and they had clearly been discussing plans for the kingdom, as papers and maps were strewn all over the table. Gwen was wearing a Pendragon red dress, her head held high, looking every inch the Queen. If someone had seen her for the first time, they would have never have guessed at her serving girl origins. She saw Merlin and Percival, and stood up to welcome them. Leon moved as well, going to greet the two men. Both of them were looking over Merlin and Percival, as if expecting the two missing people to show up and surprise them. Merlin’s heart was breaking all over again, knowing that neither Arthur nor Gwaine would ever walk through those doors again.

               “Merlin! Percival!” Gwen said, extending her hands. Then, seeing the expressions on the two men’s faces, she knew. Her face crumpled, and she brought her hands up to cover it. Then, regaining at least some of her composure, she asked perfunctorily. “He’s gone?”

               Merlin simply nodded, then stepped forward, opening his arms. “I’m so, so sorry Gwen.” Gwen just walked in his arms, hugging him tightly, and let the tears she had been holding back go. Behind them, Percival cleared his throat and added: “Gwaine is gone too” and looked away. Leon, whose face had only become more unreadable when the news of the king’s death, turned away, not wanting anyone to see the tears that had come to his eyes. Then, he joined Percival, who was standing behind Merlin, waiting for him and the Queen to get a hold on themselves. Neither of the two knights knew what to say to comfort the two grieving people, so they simply waited. Eventually, their tears abated, and Gwen composed herself into the Queen.

               “We must hold a coronation for the Queen and a funeral for the King. We need to assert the Queen’s power right away, as well as deal with the aftermath from Camlann, or the kingdom will be considered weak and easy to take.” Leon said, as always being the pillar of calm and responsibility that had always marked him as a leader.

               “Yes, you’re right, of course Leon. But there’s no need for a funeral for Arthur, we don’t have a body. We shall hold a memorial. Also, you must add a thing to the list. Start the proceedings to make magic legal in Camelot once again.” Merlin gasped, surprised. He heard both Percival and Leon suck in their breath, surprised that the Queen would change the fundamental law that had governed Uther’s reign. Guinevere, instead, just smiled at Merlin, at the pure look of shock on his face.

               “Don’t look so surprised! You said it yourself, Leon, that without that magician the whole of Camelot would have been lost on the field of battle at Camlann. Isn’t it only right that we recognize what magic has done for Camelot?” Guinevere asked.

               “Yes, milady. But maybe it would be better to just honor that one magician than to let magic run free once more? That is, if we knew who he was.” Leon said, trying to find a solution that would be palatable to the council, who had absorbed Uther’s strict beliefs.

               “I know the magician responsible for Camlann, indeed, he is responsible for many of Camelot’s victories over the years. He has watched over the kingdom, and the king, for many years, always in the shadows as a guardian angel. He has shown, over and over, that not all magic is evil, but rather than the people who wield it can be corrupted by its power.” Guinevere said.

               She knew, Merlin thought. He did not know why, or how, but Gwen had figured out its great secret. She was the only one of his friends in Camelot that had been able to piece together the evidence, the clues, and find out Merlin’s oldest secret. However, it was impossible that she had figured everything out by himself, so he couldn’t resist to ask: “Did Gaius tell you?”

               “He added to the things I already figured out.” Guinevere said, smiling at Merlin. That smile told Merlin that while she wished Merlin had told her his secret sooner, she didn’t hold it against him. She would not tell anyone, not until Merlin was ready, but when he was, she would recognize his loyalty to Camelot. Merlin nodded, acknowledging it.

               “What did Gaius say? What are you talking about?” asked Leon, looking at Percival. He was not sure of what was going on between Gwen and Merlin, but he felt like it had something to do with the issue of magic.

               “Merlin’s secret” said Percival, unexpectedly.

               “What?” Merlin said, surprised. He was echoed by Leon, who was looking at Merlin, trying to figure out what secret Merlin could hold. The open-faced, trusting man could not possibly hold a secret, Leon thought.

               Everybody was staring at Percival, who was the least the likely to have noticed anything about Merlin’s secret. “I’ve known for some time, Merlin.” Percival said, to explain himself. “There is only so many times you can knock people out, or hide behind a disguise before people start to notice.”

               “What are you talking about? Will somebody please explain?” Leon said, exasperated.

               Gwen and Percival both looked at Merlin, begging him to tell Leon as well. Merlin sighed, and then nodded. “Blimey, it seems everybody already knows, so you might as well Leon. The druids call me Emrys, and I was the magician at Camlann.”

               “No, really what’s the secret?” Leon said, smiling. There was no way Merlin was a sorcerer, he had served Arthur since before Leon himself! Plus, he had been with him and the knights on countless trips and quests, and somebody would have noticed if Merlin was practicing magic left and right. Or would he? There had decidedly been a few weird coincidences, where unexplained things had happened, such as how Morgana and Morgause’s immortal army had been stopped, and Merlin had been present for all of them. Nah, Leon would have known is Merlin was a sorcerer.

               Gwen and Percival looked at each other, trying to hold on to their laughter. Merlin kept trying to explain to Sir Leon that he really was a sorcerer, and Leon kept denying it. It felt weird, the ability to laugh, even when they had pounding headaches after their earlier grief and their eyes hurt from both the tears they had shed and the ones they hadn’t. Yet, it was pretty comical, worthy of one of Gwaine’s pranks or Arthur’s bickering with Merlin. It was Gwen who broke first, letting a giggle fly out over her mouth. Immediately, both Merlin and Leon stopped talking and glanced over at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at Percival, but he just burst out laughing as well. Gwen joined him, and Merlin, seeing the hilarity in the situation, gave a chuckle or two. Poor Sir Leon, still confused about Merlin’s big secret, looked from his giggling queen to his laughing knight to the amused manservant, and didn’t know what to do. Finally, Merlin took pity on him. He cupped his hands near his mouth, his eyes flashing red-gold, and out burst a green butterfly. It flew around the room, over the heads of Gwen and Percival, who had stopped laughing and were admiring Merlin’s work, and came to rest on Leon’s shoulder.

               “Y-you have magic!” Leon said, startled, his eyes wide with wonder.

               “I was born with it. I am magic.” Merlin simply said.

               The next day, Merlin oversaw Guinevere’s coronation. Merlin heard Leon tell the rest of the court, even though they had already guessed from the black hangings that had replaced the proud red Pendragon colors overnight, that the king was dead. He stood in the shadows as Geoffrey of Monmouth placed the crown on her head, and pronounced her sole ruler of Camelot, Leon and Percival at her side. He saw her face almost break as she realized the enormity of her task, and the meaning of the empty throne beside her, so different from her first coronation. Then, he was immensely proud of his Guinevere, who collected herself into a mask of queenly decorum and settled about ruling the kingdom. It took time, but eventually Gwen lifted the ban on magic, making him Court Sorcerer on the same day. Even more time was spent convincing the people of Camelot to accept magic once again, to remove the stains on magic left by Uther’s reign. But eventually, people accepted magic, if with a little bit more of distrust, and many came to Camelot to learn under Merlin. At first, he was hesitant to accept apprentices, but over time, he tutored the most promising and brightest minds in all of Albion. Another one of the first things Gwen did as Queen was adding chairs to the Round Table, leaving open a chair for each knight they had lost. The one Arthur had always occupied was draped with an old cloak that Merlin had dug out, while the seat next to Percival’s always found an offering of a tankard of mead to remember Gwaine. She also added one for both Lancelot and Elyan, and simply said when asked about it: “Gone, but not forgotten.” Merlin too took his own seat at the Round Table, at the right of Gwen, right next to the empty chair that was Arthur’s.

               For a time, Merlin threw himself into work, and was able to forget his grief for an hour, maybe two, at the time. There was plenty to do, from planning new ways for the people of Camelot to accept magic, to help Gwen rule, to fulfilling his post as Court Sorcerer and training the next generation of magic users. He went back to Avalon every time he could, often sneaking out at night and transporting himself there with his magic. He thought it silly, but he talked to Arthur, told him what he did with his days, and how his beloved Camelot was carrying on without him. He told Arthur of how much he missed him, of how he couldn’t set foot in his old bedroom without dissolving into a puddle of tears. On the bad days, Merlin raged at Arthur, the stupid clotpole, for leaving him behind, leaving Camelot behind. But mostly, he went back to feel closer to Arthur, and let the grief he still felt everyday shine through. In Camelot, Merlin put on a brave face when talking with most people, pretending that his grief was not an aching wound in his heart every day. But, at the lake, he let it all go. Of course, he wasn’t alone, Gwen felt a similar kind of grief, as well as Leon and Percival. Most days, he couldn’t share his grief with Gwen and Leon, they were too busy running the kingdom that he did not want to add another burden upon their shoulders. It was he who comforted Gwen when she woke up screaming, calling for Arthur, and told her what a good job she was doing as a Queen. While during the majority of the time Merlin and Gwen didn’t really have a chance to talk of much beside state matters, but the Queen made sure to talk a private walk with him every week. They grew closer than ever before, and Gwen grew to trust Merlin more and more on state matters, till he became her closest advisor, matched only by Leon. At the same time, Merlin found his friendship with Percival growing more and more. Before, they had always had an easy going friendship, with Percival treating Merlin like a little brother, like most of the other knights. However, now both men felt like the other was the only one who really understood. They had both watched their best friends die in their arms, and it had brought them closer in a shared kinship kind of way, kind of like warriors returning from battle. They met often at knight, after both their duties were done, to talk or laugh. Often, Percival helped Merlin finish up with organizing his own tower (where he practiced his craft as Court Sorcerer) or finish his chores for Gaius. Rarely, they’d meet outside of the castle, both tacitly avoiding the tavern and lower town, and the memories they brought.

               The fact that his immortality meant watching each of his friends dying didn’t really sink in for Merlin until a feast, about five years after Arthur’s death. It was in celebration of the first official state visit of Queen Mithian, (who had ascended the throne after her father’s death) and the signing of a treaty between Queen Annis, Queen Elena, Queen Mithian, and Queen Guinevere, (called the Four Queen Treaty) which brought the 4 kingdoms together in a way closer than ever before. Merlin saw this as the first concrete sign of the Albion that he and Arthur were supposed to build, and was almost content for the first time since Arthur’s death. Also, he was actually attending a banquet, for the first time, instead of simply serving Arthur. He was even given a seat of honor, to the right of Guinevere, and next to Mithian, so he was inclined to cast off a bit of his recent gloom. However, disaster struck halfway through the feast. Gaius was making his way over to him and Guinevere, no doubt to make his excuses in order to go up to his room and rest, when he collapsed. Merlin had been glancing away when it had happened, leaning over to hear something Mithian was telling him. He was alerted by the shouts and clatters, and turned around to see his mentor on the ground. He rushed over, followed by Guinevere and the knights. He directed Percival to pick up the old man, and followed him to Gaius’ rooms. When he got there, he shooed everyone out except Gwen, Leon, and Percival, and made them go wait in his old room. Merlin checked Gaius’ pulse, but it was too weak. Finding no outward cause, he used his magic to try to detect where the damage was. He found that there was internal bleeding in the skull, caused perhaps by a fall or hitting a heavy object. He tried using his magic to heal it, but it was no use. While his magic had always been powerful, he had never had the particular skill of healing that some people did. Merlin grabbed Gaius’ hand, muttering old spells under his breath, but it was no use. He went to tell the others that Gaius did not have long, and then remained by the old man’s side for the rest of the night. The others all found chairs, and remained in various states of dozing/alertness throughout the night. Instead, Merlin never gave up, muttering spells in the old tongue, but none of them worked. As dawn broke, he felt Gaius’ pulse grow weaker. As he searched his mentor’s face, Merlin noticed how much older the always ancient Gaius looked. Where had the years gone?

               “NO! Dammit, Gaius, you can’t leave me, not yet! I still have so much to learn! Please…” Merlin said, his voice trailing off as his tears choked him. He thought he had spent all his tears a long time ago, but apparently he was wrong. “Please, Gaius, stay with me!” He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, whom he thought might have been Gwen, but he was too distracted in trying to find a pulse in the too-cold hand he now held.

               “Merlin, he’s gone…” Gwen said softly, reaching out her arms to comfort him. Merlin allowed himself to be comforted by her warm embrace, crying for the mentor who had been like a father to him for so many years. Leon and Percival were standing nearby, giving comfort in their steady and stable way. They too grieved for the man who had been like a grandfather to many of the knights, who had chided them for their injuries, but had always had a kind word a remedy to help them out, or maybe just a gentle ear to listen with. That day, Merlin slept, and the next day, he asked Gwen for permission to bring Gaius to Avalon, to lay him to rest with the others Merlin had loved and lost. At first, Gwen had been hesitant, because Gaius had been a beloved and respected member of Camelot, but she relented once she saw how important this simple request was to Merlin. This time, he went to Avalon with a wagon, carrying Gaius in his favorite red robe, accompanied by Gwen, Leon, and Percival, who had insisted on coming to say their final farewell to the beloved physician. The others had never been to Avalon before, so they were awestruck by their first view of the mystical lake. The fog, which obscured the island where the others rested, and the clear blue of the lake’s water. However, Merlin did not allow them to go further than the edge of the forest, fearing what would happen if they were exposed to the raw magical power that permeated the lake shore. He carried the body of his mentor to the boat, which always seemed to reappear. Then, he set about decorating with flowers. The other helped, grabbing some from deeper in the forest. Finally, he softly whispered “Goodbye, Gaius. You were always like the father I never had.” He was echoed by three quiet “Rest in peace” from the shore, and then Merlin whispered “ **In sibbe gerest.”** This time, he watched the boat until it was swallowed up by the mists, then once again whispered: “Watch over them, Freya” to the placid lake waters. Turning around, he quickly strode back to where the others were waiting, understanding and pity in their eyes. He had noticed, in the years following Arthur’s death, that he, Guinevere, and the knights had become a close, tight-knit team, as the last people who had known him well. That was evident by their silence as they left their lake shore, leaving him to deal with his grief, as well as the little kindness he would see them doing. Whether it was Guinevere, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, or Leon getting the wood, or Percival cooking dinner, they knew him well enough to leave him in silence, but be there when he was ready to share. In the end, he returned to Camelot with them, speaking quieter than before and becoming even more reserved. He stopped engaging in idle chatter, only talking to Gwen or one of the knights, or his patients. Things got even worse a year later, when Hunith died. He hadn’t known that she was dead, not until three months later, when word finally reached Camelot of the harsh winter that Ealdor had endured. He went back, and cried when he saw the simple grave that marked his mother’s resting place, not too far from where they had burned Will’s ashes. He cried for his inability to save her, from even holding her hand as she passed on. He regretted the few times he had taken a break from his duties in Camelot to come see her, all the time he had missed, all the things he had wanted to tell her. Now, he would never have the chance. He stayed in Ealdor only for two days, returning to Camelot and the only people he could still call family. First, he stopped by the lake, to see all the others he had lost. It was there, staring at the tall pillar in the middle of the lake, when Merlin realized that Gwen, Leon, and Percival would eventually leave him too. He became scared, scared that his damaged and fragmented heart could not take more loss, especially close ones like the two loyal knights and Gwen, his oldest friend. He had two choices in that moment in time: he could live by the lake side, isolate himself from the others to spare his heart grief, just close himself off from the world until everyone gave up searching, or he could live in Camelot, cherish every moment with the last people he loved and loved him in return, the last ones who had loved Arthur almost as much as him. The choice was hard, Merlin was split right down the middle: on one side, he was tired, tired of putting on a brave front, but on the other, he would need the memories of Gwen, of Leon and Percival, of Camelot, to tell Arthur when he returned.

               He heard a whisper then. He wasn’t sure if it was coming from his subconscious, or an old memory, or maybe it came from the powerful mists themselves. “I want you to always be you” said a voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Arthur’s. And then, Merlin’s mind was made up. He had made a promise to Arthur, to protect the Camelot and Albion they had worked so hard to build, but also to never change. The Merlin Arthur had known would have never hidden himself from the world because he was scared of what might happen if someone were to die. No, that Merlin would have been right by their side, especially if those people were Gwen and the knights, who were not only a link to Arthur but his friends as well. So Merlin went back to Camelot, and helped Gwen rule for many years. He saw her extend and nurture the Golden Age that he and Arthur had created, and he remained by her side, advising her on all matters. He aged himself, so people would not get suspicious, but Gwen insisted that in private councils between Percival, Leon, and them that he wear his true age, which was the same as the day he had entered the Crystal Cave. She loved making fun of him for that, because the only way Merlin would ever look as aged as his Dragoon disguise would be if he cast the aging spell on himself. Eventually, people they had known started dying. First it was the old cook, who had scolded Merlin and the knights when they stole a pastry, but had always made sure to make a few extra and leave them out for them. Then it was a maid to whom Gwen had been close with, dead of childbed fever. Merlin saw Leon wince every time he got up too quickly from his chair, thanks of an old knee injury he had acquired during one of the jousts, and Merlin started prescribing a tonic for him to drink every morning in order to ease his pain. Leon had been the only one of them to get married, to a nice girl of a semi-noble house named Diana. They seemed happy enough to Merlin, and they had two adorable little girls named Anna (in honor of Arthur) and Gwenna (for Queen Guinevere), whom Merlin doted on. He was extremely surprised when he found little Anna, who had been throwing a tantrum, started throwing objects, using her mind. He took her on as his last apprentice, and taught her everything he knew about magic. While she did not possess as much raw power as Merlin did, she was powerful enough in an age where magic was disappearing. Once she grew older, she moved away from Camelot, and founded an order called The Guardians, which preserved magical places such as the Isle of the Blessed. Occasionally, Merlin crossed their path and helped them out, but he was mostly separated from them. He saw Anna crossing the ocean, and become the first ruler of a land that would be called the Aquitaine, later France, as well as finding happiness and true love. She spread magic beyond the shores of Avalon, and Merlin would sometimes visit the kingdom she built and her descendant when he got lonely, because they at least remembered some of the true story.

               Percival was the first one of them to go. He died in the only war that Camelot fought under Guinevere, against a mix of Odin’s men and what remained of the people who had allied themselves with Morgana. The final battle between these two forces took place seven years after Arthur’s death, and it had been a great win for Camelot. Percival had been one of the first, and only, casualties of the battle. He had been the general of Camelot’s forces, since Leon had started to take more of a backseat when it came to active duty, and Percival had started leading the army, due to his status as second-oldest knight. As he led the charge of the middle of the army, they had broken on the shields of their enemy, he and a few men had managed to break through the enemy line. However, they advanced too quickly and were soon cut off from Camelot’s line, and found themselves surrounded by the bulk of Odin’s army. Surrounded on all sides, Percival had rallied the few men he had with him, and they had taken on Odin’s army. All too soon, they were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that surrounded them. Percival was the last to fall, felled by a blow to his back, taking with him well over a dozen men. Merlin had been unable to do anything to help, coming from the back of Odin’s army with a small brigade of sorcerers. In the end, Percival’s brave actions were what carried the day for Camelot; he had given their troops an extra incentive to fight and had distracted Odin’s troops in order for the knights of Camelot to have the element of surprise behind their strikes. When Merlin saw his fallen friend, and comrade, he simply levitated the body of the big knight, still bloody and dirty from his last battle, and started walking towards the lake. He wasn’t surprised when Gwen and Leon, as well as the majority of the surviving knights, eventually joined him. “ **In sibbe gerest”** Merlin whispered, letting the boat free. “I hope you find your peace now, my friend.” He said, in lieu of a last goodbye. Percival would finally be reunited with those he had loved and lost, something Merlin wanted desperately but would never have.

               Leon and Gwen made a great team. By the end of her reign, they acted almost in sync. That’s why he shouldn’t have been surprised when they died so close together. They had both started to go gray together, Leon with a grizzled look that Merlin thought just made him look more like a bear, while Gwen’s ebony locks had slowly faded to the grey of old age. Leon was first, dying of a heart malady, in his bed, surrounded by his two daughters and their families. Diane, his wife, had died two years before, and Leon had aged ten years in a day after her death. Merlin wasn’t surprised the he soon followed, Leon had loved his wife very much in the end. He died peacefully, which was quite an achievement for a knight (especially one from Camelot), Merlin and Gwen, as well as Anna and Gwenna, by his bedside. Gwen’s death was similar, but with many far-reaching consequences. The Queen, who had by then been well past her 70th year, had felt ill after a feast and Merlin had gone up with her to keep her company and check on her. Throughout the night, her condition worsened, until she could barely talk or breathe. Merlin knew that she wouldn’t last the day. As her last request, she wanted to see Merlin with the face he had worn so many years ago, and he obliged her, unable to stop a tear or two from falling. Gwen was his oldest friend, and he had watched her go from the awkward and kind young girl who had gone to speak to a boy in the stocks, to the regal and just queen who raised armies. He felt her loss more keenly than any since Arthur’s. He told her so, and she only smiled at him, saying that it was all because of him. When she smiled, you could still see the girl she had been in her eyes, and the queen that she was in the lift of her head. Arthur, how proud you would have been of her, thought Merlin. Even so, when she tried to give him the royal seal, the one he had carried back from Arthur’s dying hands in order to give her a backing for her claim on the throne and tell her the news that her husband had died, he couldn’t accept it.

               “You have done so much for this kingdom, for all of us. If anyone deserves this, it’s you Merlin.” She said, so softly that Merlin had to lean his head forward.

               “No, I was never meant to rule. My role was always to stand on the side and offer aid.” Merlin said, closing her hands around the seal once more. As he saw the end come closer, he comforted Gwen: “Sleep now, old friend, and you shall soon see all the ones we have lost. Give them all my love.”

               Gwen nodded, her eyes closing. However, as she a last thought came to her, she forced herself to speak once more: “Merlin, you promised…Arthur something when he died…please, promise me…don’t be alone all these years…” Gwen said, struggling to breathe.

               “I promise” Merlin said, forcing his thick voice through a choked throat. He was barely holding on to his tears now, crushing Gwen’s old, frail hand with his own young and strong one. Gwen smiled, content with his promise, and settled back in her pillows. Merlin waited for her chest to rise again, for her heart to beat, but it was no use. Guinevere, last Queen of Camelot, who had ruled fairly and justly for almost 50 years, was gone. And with her, so was Merlin’s last friend, the last member of the family he had built so long ago. He picked up the frail body of the Queen, and, with a whispered word, he expelled all of the people out of the citadel of Camelot. Then, he warded the palace up, so that he would be the only one allowed to enter it before the return of its rightful king. With his magic nearly depleted, he used the last of it take himself and Gwen to Avalon. There, he laid her to rest next to Arthur and Lancelot, the two great loves of her life, as well as the rest of their friends. He said his last farewell to his queen, but brought with him not the old and frail woman she had been at the end, but rather the bright girl she had been and the wise queen she had become.

               Over the years, Merlin had both wandered and never walked a single step. He had traveled the world, seen kingdoms rise and fall, make improvements to his little cottage as technology improved, but his heart never left Camelot. He returned to the lake often, spending years in isolation, until he once again remembered the promise he had made Gwen. Then, he would go out in the world, notice the changes it had made since his last visit. When the pain of seeing everyone else grow old, of seeing the world so changed from what it had been (and this usually took no longer than two years) he would once again retreat to the little cottage by the lake he had built. When he simply lived there, he collected herbs and books to add to his personal magic, as well as focusing on honing his magic. Every day, he would go down to the lake, mostly to talk to his friends. Some days, he talked to Gwaine, telling him of the amusing ways he had seen people drunk, others he would talk to Gwen, asking for her wise judgment but, of course, never getting an answer. Always, he would talk to Arthur, and some days, when he was feeling most melancholic, Merlin could have sworn that he heard a slightly scornful voice telling him to snap out of it. He did not know how he kept himself from going crazy, because he spent the whole time waiting for Arthur without making any close relationship with anyone else, unable to bear the pain that would eventually cause. Until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter really was not central to the story, but I felt that to really understand Merlin's motivation in the next few chapters you needed to see where he's coming from. This chapter was pretty much me exploring how he felt after the finale, and how I imagined he would return to Camelot (because I refuse to accept that he could stay away from Gwen and the kingdom he helped build). Also, it helps give Alienore time to think, because I do not want her to rush into this decision. It goes against all that the character stands for, so this chapter is kind of a filler while she takes her time to weigh her options, haha :) I am so sorry that I took forever between updates (again!) but this chapter was really hard to write... Thank you so much for all your support and for reading this story!   
> P.S. The spell used to get the boat to move is the one Merlin uses in the finale, and I took it from the Merlin Wikia. I also took some liberties on where some of the characters are buried, but I figured that since Merlin was magic, he can do anything, right?


	6. A Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short update, but I didn't want too long to pass from the last one...

Alienore was the one who snapped him back to the present. Merlin had been sitting on his stump (after all, once you’ve sat on the same stump for 1500 years, you can claim some kind of ownership to it) and thinking too hard of his past. He was alerted of her presence by a branch snapping, the sound of flesh hitting sharp, and some muffled cursing. He smiled, thinking of his own clumsiness, and the many, many, times he had been teased about it. 

“You have come to a decision, then?”

Alienore hesitated, but just for a second. She did not know just how long she had been gone, but it definitely felt like an hour or more. This guy, Merlin, THE Merlin, was asking her to jump back in time, abandon all the comforts and familiarity of the modern world, in order to complete a destiny she didn’t understand? Never mind the fact that she was in the middle of the woods in God knows what state, or worse country, with a man she had met a day ago and could possibly be a complete nutter? No, Alienore had decided to believe that he was Merlin, and thus his whole story was true, and once she made a decision, she stuck to it. But could she do it, go back? She was just a normal girl, born and raised in the 21st century, with no idea of the dangers of the 6th century. The most danger she had ever been in had been that one time when a bear had almost gotten in her house, and she was sure that there were worse things than lethargic bears awaiting her in the Dark Ages. She did not know how to wield a sword, nor how to shoot a bow, nor any of the things that would enable her to defend herself in the past. She was also pretty sure that she had not been chosen to go back to the past just to sit and sew, but her exact purpose was unclear. That had been the source of so much of her hesitation, because she had decided to go almost the moment she had accepted Merlin’s story. Raising her head, she met the clear blue-grey eyes that were looking at her so intently. She felt like there was so much riding on her next words.

“Yes” Alienore took a deep breath, then went on: “I will go with you.” Merlin let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his hand going up to run through his hair. As Alienore agreed, she felt the weight of her destiny settle on her shoulders. She did not know what it was, not yet, but the ghost of that destiny was an undeniable presence in the air now. She felt that it was not going to be easy, and might not even end well, but she had made her choice. She would follow through it, wherever it took her, and try to complete it.

“Well, then, we don’t have any time to lose. We have places to be and people to meet.” Merlin said as he stood up from his stump, brushing off his pants from the dust. He offered his arm to Alienore, and quickly returned to his cottage. Putting away the items they had used for breakfast, he checked that everything was in order in the tiny cottage, and then locked the door behind him. He had a weird sense that he would not be coming back here, so as he and Alienore took the path toward the road, he turned around to catch a last glimpse of his little cottage and his quiet, purposeless life. “I’m coming, Arthur” he thought, lengthening his stride to catch up to Alienore. Their walk wasn’t long, and it was completed in mostly silence, each one wrapped up in their own thoughts. Once they reached the road, they took a right, and soon arrived in the little village, where they got a taxi. Merlin repeated the address he had given just a week before, when he had gone to the Isle of the Blessed in order to find answers, and thought the main thing that made such a difference in these two trips. This time, he had hope, a hope for a future which might finally include a purpose and his family once more. During the long trip, Merlin and Alienore talked of many things. She asked him of what to expect in the past, he told her of a time more brutal than her own, when death was an ever present shadow, but also of a world full of the simpler things in life. He asked her questions about the modern world, and she explained the wonders of the Internet, television, and cellphones, as well as sharing some of the horrors of high school. They had an easy going friendship when they had first met, and this was once again evident as they talked and laughed. At lunchtime, Merlin whispered a couple of words, and made sandwiches appear. They ate them as they drove by an impressive set of mountains, covered in snow and crowned with gray clouds. They finally became quiet as evening fell, and approached their destination. Merlin had the taxi driver drop him off at the same spot as the last time, and then started walking with Alienore at his heels. This time, he was going to walk all the way to the shore of the lake that held the Isle of the Blessed. Of course, it would be much easier to use his magic to speed it up, but he did not want to risk spooking Alienore any further. He could tell that the day was beginning to take its hold on her, and he tried to distract her with idle chatter, falling easily into his old idiot manservant guise. Merlin could tell she was distracted, only listening to him with half a mind, focused on what was to come on the island.

Merlin was right, of course. Alienore had been able to forget on the car ride, what would happen once they reached the island. Magic would be performed, on her, and then she would be sent back to the past. It didn’t help that the taxi driver had dropped them off in a dark forest, as removed from civilization as the cottage had been, and they were now hiking through it. At least she had learned in the car ride that she found herself in England, even though they had crossed the Scottish border sometime that afternoon. It wasn’t that Alienore didn’t trust Merlin, because she was following him to the Dark Ages, wasn’t she? She just did not like dark woods, especially at night. They put her on her guard, making the hair on the nape of her neck rise and goosebumps appear on her arms. She appreciated Merlin’s effort to get her mind off it, however, she was just too distracted for it to fully work. On their walk, Alienore saw a side of Merlin that she hadn’t expected, a more carefree, loose side of him. A young side of him, as if the burdens of his many years on Earth were falling off with each step they took. She thought back to what he had said when he had admitted his identity to her, that he had been Arthur’s manservant and friend. Was this the side of Merlin that had existed side by side with the legendary King Arthur all those years ago in Camelot? She would probably find out, since she was about to take a little trip to the year 500 AD. 

Merlin smelled their arrival to the Isle of the Blessed first. The sulfur deposits that had always made the water that surrounded it warm had always had that particular pungent, unpleasant smell. Just another reason why he really did not like this place. Alienore smelled them too, she was hiding her face in her sleeve. Merlin followed her example, covering his nose, while still keeping his eyes peeled for the tiny exit to the forest. He had spelled this location, with the help of The Guardians, and they could literally wander for hours if he did not pay close attention. There! He saw the fog become thicker in one area, just for a second, but he knew that that indicated that they could find the island. He grabbed Alienore’s hand, startling her, and dragged her towards the island. It was important that he did not let go of her hand, because the wards on the Isle protected it from non-magical beings. Their contact would tell the magic that she was under his protection, so she could pass through.

Alienore followed Merlin out of the forest, and sucked in her breath. Her eyes ached from the sudden brightness after the darkness of the forest, but the spots and colors at the edge of her vision did not detract from the sight before her. A long dock was directly in front of her, separated only by a few feet of narrow beach. Its wood was dark and twisted, giving off an ominous vibe. A narrow boat, made of the same wood, was anchored to the end of it. In it, a huddled and bent shaped sat, awaiting them no doubt. But the real stunner was the Isle itself, in the distance. It was the dark ruin of a castle on an island, which gave off the glamour and sadness of past magnificence. It was silhouetted against a harsh light, but Alienore could find no visible source for it. Magic probably, especially with the incredibility of her current situation. She turned around, but could find no sign of the forest they had just exited. Instead, she found a vast beach, devoid of any sort of life. Actually, the only movement anywhere in her line of sight came from either the soft lapping of the water or from Alienore herself. However, the thing that affected her the most was the air itself. It was as if there was something unwholesome in it, something that wasn’t meant to be inhaled by normal humans like her. The more she breathed it, the more it affected her. Her head started pounding, her temples aching, and she started shaking from a sudden cold.

Merlin watched Alienore’s face as she took in the sights around her. This whole area was permeated with magic, powerful magic. It was so different from the atmosphere on the Earth now, so pure, that it was making Alienore sick. He murmured a couple words under his breath, absorbing some of the magic in the air in order to dilute it for poor Alienore, who was looking a bit green. Immediately, she started breathing easier, so Merlin judged it was safe to move on. He walked down the dock and offered the rower a gold coin, and climbed into the boat. He motioned for Alienore to follow, and helped her down into the boat.


	7. The Isle of the Blessed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update to apologize for the short one last time! And things start happening this chapter! Yay!

**_Chapter Seven- The Isle of the Blessed_ **

               Alienore managed to restrain herself until the boat was well under way. Then, she asked: “So, what is this place?”

               “It was called the Isle of the Blessed by the people who created it, a long time ago.”

               “And?” she asked, wanting more details.

               “And it was the center of the Old Religion, and its High Priestesses. This is where they lived and trained, where they performed their rituals, and where they hid their secrets. The air is full of the leftover magic from their presence on the island. The first time I came here, the magic was still so thick, despite it already being in disuse for twenty years, that wyvern were created out of it.” Merlin explained.

               “Why did it fall into disuse if the people who built it were so powerful?”

               “It’s a long story…” Merlin said, not wanting to explain too much about Camelot and its inhabitants in case he inadvertently changed her destiny.

               “Well, this boat is moving painfully slow, so I say you’ve got time. Start talking.” Alienore said with authority. Merlin had piqued her curiosity, with his talk of magic and High Priestesses, powerful ruins and a quick decline. She was a sucker for a good backstory, always had been, whether it was for books, movies, or videogames. She settled back into the back of the boat, trying to find a comfortable spot for listening.

               “Well, I guess I have to start at the very beginning, don’t I?” Merlin asked, and, receiving a nod from Alienore, continued: “Twenty years before I came to Camelot, about a year or so before I was even born, the king of Camelot, Uther Pendragon, banned all magic in the land. This ban was in still in effect by the time I arrived in Camelot…”

               “But how did you help Arthur if magic was banned? Did Arthur even know about your magic?’ Alienore interrupted. Didn’t the legends say that Merlin was King Arthur’s most trusted counselor and Court Sorcerer? What Merlin was telling her made no sense, there could be no Merlin if magic was banned, right?

               Merlin smiled at her question, remembering all the idiot excuses he had used, and Arthur had believed, over the years in Camelot to hide his magic. He waited for Alienore to finish thinking, to finish coming up with ideas and scenarios in her head, before continuing. “The ban on magic was in effect all the way through Arthur’s reign. It was Gwen, Queen Guinevere, who finally abolished it during her reign. It was then I became Merlin the warlock, the one you probably would recognize from the legends. During Uther’s reign, I had to hide my magic from everyone except Gaius, the Court Physician and the closest thing to a father I had, and Lancelot. At the same time, I had to use that magic to help Arthur and save his life, more times than I remember.”

               Alienore took a minute to process this, comparing it to her knowledge of the Arthurian legends. It shocked her to hear him discuss Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur as if he had just seen them yesterday, like they were real people. They are real, she reminded herself. If this was Merlin, it just stood to reason that the rest of them were real as well, right? Then, the questions started coming: “How did you save Arthur? How were you close to him, if you weren’t his counselor? How did you know Lancelot and Guinevere? How did you hide your magic for so long, with so few people knowing? How old were you in Camelot?”

               Merlin held up his hands, and with a laugh said: “Slow down there. I can only answer so many questions at the time! Let’s see, my official position in Camelot was the role of Arthur’s personal servant, from the time he was 21 to when he died. I was 18 when I first got the job, and I actually got it as a reward for his saving his life on my third day in Camelot. And yes, I used magic to do it, even though the arrogant prat didn’t deserve it at the time. Over the course of the next ten years, I used magic multiple times to save Arthur’s life, most times explaining it away as an accident or a lucky occurrence. The few times I actually had to perform magic in front of him I donned my old man disguise. It helped that Arthur wasn’t particularly smart.” Merlin couldn’t resist a chuckle at that one, which then turned to full blown laughter when he saw Alienore’s scandalized face at hearing the legendary King Arthur spoken of in such terms. Alienore was pretty shocked, to hear the perfect king, the paragon to which all others were measured up to, spoken of in such terms. She supposed that Merlin would know, however, since he had been the closest person to Arthur from what she could gleam from his tone, and the fond look in his eyes. Even know, when he was insulting him, she heard the whisper of inside jokes and mock insults of times long ago. She realized that whatever else Merlin might say about Arthur, whatever he might have been, the two men had shared a deep bond, and they had been more than friends, brothers. That was the reason for the sadness, the longing, she saw lurking in the back of his intense gaze.

               “So, you guys were close friends?” She interrupted, again. Merlin was momentarily stunned at her question, amazed at how quickly she had read him.

               “Yes. Not at first, I thought he was a stuck-up prat, which he was, and he thought I was an idiot. We actually came to blows on our first, and second, meeting. But, yes eventually we were friends.”

               “What about Guinevere and Lancelot? How did you know them? And were they actually in love? Did Guinevere ever really love Arthur? I’ve always thought that her story was the saddest one of all, in love with a knight but stuck in a loveless marriage with a king who adored her.” Alienore said.

               “First of all, the legends got the whole love triangle wrong” Merlin said, putting air quotes around the term love triangle. “Gwen and Lancelot were in love, yes, but that was before she fell in love with Arthur. Huh, I guess I should start with how I knew them, so I don’t get you confused when I start talking about their story. I met Gwen, sorry Queen Guinevere, on my first day in Camelot. I was in the stocks, since Arthur and I came to blows, and she came up to talk to me. She praised my courage for standing up to Arthur, who was quite a bully back then. I remember the moment perfectly, she was just a shy serving girl, awkward and blushing, offering her hand to the bumbling and gangly boy in the stocks. She was my first friend in Camelot.”

               As soon as Merlin paused, Alienore had to ask: “Guinevere, THE Queen Guinevere from the legends, was nothing more than a servant?” She said, shocked.

               Merlin nodded, amused at her tone. “Indeed. She was a lady’s maid to Arthur’s sister, even though he didn’t find out till later, Morgana. And yes, before you ask, she is Morgana La Fay from the legends, but not when I first met her. During my first year in Camelot, we were all young, too young for the destinies that awaited us. If you had told me back then that one day Lancelot would be a knight, Gwen a queen, that I would be immortal, that Arthur would die at just 30, that Mordred would be the one to kill him, and that Morgana would become our biggest enemy, become everything she despised, I would not have believed you. Yet, those were our destinies. Anyways, Gwen and I were friends, good friends, even before Arthur fell in love with her. Most days, we would have lunch together, before we both called away for our duties to our respective masters. Even then, if you looked closely, you could see the hints of the queen she would become. She was kind and beautiful, but wise, her decisions were always careful and sound, but she was also fiercely loyal to those she loved and courageous. Most of all, she had a good heart. During those years, she became almost like the sister I never had.” Alienore could tell the love and respect that Merlin had for the long gone queen. The image of her he painted was different from any of those painted by the many legends and stories about her. Alienore was having trouble believing that the sweet and loving girl that Merlin was describing would be able to cause the biggest betrayal in history. “And Lancelot?” she asked, wanting to hear about the man who many had called the perfect knight. When she was little, after her grandmother had told her the Arthurian stories for the first time, she had imagined Lancelot, on his white horse, coming to whisk her off to his castle. Now, she wanted to know the real man behind the stories, the one who had inspired her girlhood fantasies.

               “Lancelot was one of the bravest and noblest people I’ve ever met. He was one of my truest friends. In the end, he gave his life for mine. I met him for the first time when I had been in Camelot for a month. I was out picking herbs for Gaius, the Court Physician, when I was attacked by a griffin. Lancelot stepped in, using a rusty old sword and wearing no armor, and distracted the griffin long enough to save both of our lives. I brought him back to Camelot with his to heal his wound, and we became friends. Even then, he was so noble, so kind, and so chivalrous that I wasn’t surprised when I learned that his dearest wish was to become a knight. I helped him, cheated with magic, since then only noblemen could become knights in Camelot. Lancelot was just a simple farm boy, so I made up a noble pedigree for him. He proved himself worthy to be a knight, only to have his deceit discovered the very next day. He risked death, but Arthur saw his worth and interceded. However, the griffin was still haunting Camelot, so Lancelot returned to defeat it, despite being banished. It was then that he figured out my secret, because I enchanted his lance in order for him to defeat the griffin. He kept my secret till the day he died. During this time, he and Gwen fell in love, but it was brief and fleeting love. He left then, and we kept up our friendship mostly by letters. He wandered around, selling his sword, but he had lost his purpose. The next time I met him, he was rescuing Guinevere, whom he had happened on by chance. By that time, Gwen and Arthur were already in love, and Lancelot graciously withdrew himself, leaving Gwen to Arthur. I don’t think he ever really got over her, he loved her too deeply for that, but he had left Gwen to Arthur because he believed him to be the better man. That was just the kind of person Lancelot was. I didn’t see him for years after that, but I wrote often, telling him of the adventures and scrapes I managed to get myself in. He came back to help Arthur retake Camelot the first time Morgana took it, and was the first one to pledge his support when we were all sitting at the first Round Table. That night, Arthur knighted Sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, with Sir Leon, Gaius, Gwen, and myself looking on. All four of them were commoners, but over the years they served Arthur, they proved their nobility was far above those who had been born lords. The nine of us were the original Round Table, the inspiration for the larger one that later dominated the Great Hall of Camelot. Unfortunately, Lancelot was only a knight for a year. He died right here, on the Isle of the Blessed, giving his life to close the veil between the world of the dead and the living, saving my life and the whole kingdom. He smiled as he died, and for years after I blamed myself… I’m sorry, I’ve been babbling on, but I guess this place just makes me miss him.”

               “Wow…He really was the perfect knight. And no, I didn’t mind your babbling!” Alienore said with a smile. In honest truth, she had been captivated by Merlin’s story of the dazzling knight, so noble and so much like the good parts of his legend. She had hung on his every word, and wanted to press him for even more details. “So he and Gwen never did have an affair?”

               Merlin winced. Of course she would ask about one of the darkest times of his life, when he had believed that two of his closest friends had actually betrayed him and Arthur. He sighed, and then said: “They did, but not the way the legend depicts it. Lancelot died here, saving the kingdom. Almost a year later, Morgana created a shade of him. A shade is pretty much the physical body of the deceased, but without their soul. She coached the shade in just enough of Lancelot’s life that he could pass for his old self, and the returned him to Camelot just in time for the tourney celebrating Arthur’s and Gwen’s engagement. She gave him an enchanted bracelet for Gwen, which caused her to be unbearably attracted to Lancelot. I found out that Lancelot was a shade, but I did not think that Morgana would strike out at Gwen, who had been her closest friend. I guess she just couldn’t bear to see her former maidservant wearing the crown that she believed was rightfully hers. Arthur found them kissing, and banished Gwen. Then, the shade of Lancelot followed his last orders and killed himself. Eventually, Arthur realized that his love for Gwen was too great and forgave her. They were happily married for almost five years before he dies. One of my greatest regrets, apart from not putting the legends to rights, is that I never cleared neither Gwen’s nor Lancelot’s name, though I did tell Gwen when she was older.”

               Alienore nodded, finally understanding how the truth had been twisted into becoming the legend that so many people knew. “History is written by the victors” she mused out aloud. Merlin had not told her what had happened to Camelot after Guinevere’s death, but she guessed that it had been overrun by the Saxon forces, who had tried to paint a black picture of the former rulers. Indeed, Merlin’s retelling made all of the famous inhabitants of Camelot, all of the members of the glittering court that had captured the imagination of millions, seem flesh and blood, real people you could touch. She realized that is exactly what they had been to the young man in front of her, friends, brothers, family. And now, she would meet them all. What a story! She pictured going back to school, and when asked what she did over the weekend, say: “Nothing much, just went down to Camelot with Merlin and had a party with the Round Table.” She couldn’t resist the small chuckle that escaped her at that, and Merlin sent her a questioning look. She just shook her head, not wanting to tell him the random way her head worked. Then, the boat stopped moving. They had been so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed they had arrived at the island.

               “What is this place to us exactly, since we got side-tracked?” Alienore asked as they got out of the boat, each of them grabbing their backpack from the bottom.

               “It’s where the High Priestess performed their magic, so the whole island has absorbed the magic of so many repeated spells. It’s perfect for casting powerful spells because it magnifies a person’s magic. Once, there were many such places, but now few of them are left. This, despite its rundown appearance, was once the center of all things magical, a wonderful place to come study, so it’s been preserved through the ages.”

               “What other places besides this one can work similarly?”

               Merlin thought for a minute before answering the question. “I only really know of those in England, and they are the Lake of Avalon, Stonehenge, the Crystal Cave, here, and the Enchanted Mountains” he said, holding up a finger for each name. Then, smiling his mischievous grin, he asked: “Were you planning on running off and performing life changing magic, perchance?”

               Alienore laughed, shrugging. “You never know… Maybe I’m a sorceress in disguise and I lured you here to steal all your secrets and then imprison you.”

               “Ah, so that would make you Vivienne from the legends?” he teased right back.

               “If the shoe fits…” She smiled up at him. Alienore hadn’t realized how much taller than her Merlin actually was. He towered head and shoulders above her. She wasn’t a short at 5’ 6”, but Merlin made her look small and petite, despite his lanky frame. Even now, he had to lower his head and look down in order to meet her eyes. Their blue eyes held each other locked, neither of them able to believe that they found themselves in that particular place and time. Merlin couldn’t believe that he might actually see the tall white towers of Camelot and his friends after more than a millennium and a half, while Alienore couldn’t believe that she was standing next to a legend, about to go meet more legends.

               The silence stretched, until it became uncomfortable. Breaking eye contact with Merlin’s steel grey eyes, she asked: “So, are we going to do some magic or not?”

               “Right. Should be right through here…OWW!” Merlin said, as he clutched his head. He had been distracted, trying to find the right corridor to follow in order to get to the center of the island, and had hit his head on a misplaced ceiling beam. He rubbed at the sore spot, pouting at Alienore’s laughing face.

               “Who would have said, the most powerful sorcerer on Earth, and yet he’s as clumsy as the rest of us?” Alienore said, laughing.

               “Oi! Not you as well!” Merlin said, but he couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. He realized that he had smiled more in the single day he had spent with Alienore than in the last millennium, and thanked the heavens once again that she had come into his life, bringing a new purpose with her. “Come on, it should be right here…” He said, following the hint of light he saw around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Merlin and Alienore have finally made to the Isle of the Blessed... where they might encounter a couple of familiar faces? :) Well you'll have to read the next chapter to find out! I hope this chapter was a little bit cheerier, since I felt the last two were super angsty and gloomy... Reviews/comments are appreciated!


	8. Reunions

Alienore gasped as they reached the center of the island. She found herself inside a circular ruins. In the middle, there was an open air round space. In it, pillars surrounded an altar, covered in runes and strange symbols. Everything about the space screamed its ancient mysteries and mysticism. She turned her gaze to see Merlin’s reaction; he didn’t seem really impressed with the raw power that filled the air around them. Instead, his eyes were focused on a spot in the distance, almost at the opposite shore of the island. His nose was scrunched up as if remembering past pain, and Alienore guessed that that was the spot where Lancelot had died. She shied away, giving Merlin his space, and instead focused her gaze on the row of cloaked (and hooded) figures that stood opposite to them. Similarly, they also had not approached the altar, but had rather stayed beneath the ruined portico that had once been a great palace.

               “Welcome back, Emrys. And I see you have brought our guest with you.” The middle figure said, stepping forward. She pushed back the cowl on her cloak, revealing bright blue eyes and impossibly fair skin. The woman had brown hair, several shades darker than Alienore’s own, that looked like it was dripping wet. She wore a red dress, tattered and ragged at the ends, covered in the blue cloak. She looked to be only a few years older than Merlin, yet her eyes held the secrets of the ages. Her smile, while welcoming, still curled up, in confidence and a little bit of mockery. As those frigid blue eyes ran over Alienore, she wasn’t sure if the woman was here to help her and Merlin or not. She just gave off the air of ambiguity, coming from an otherworldliness quality that Alienore couldn’t quite pick out. Her voice was soft, musical, and young like her visage. Yet, both held the underlining power and magic that radiate off the girl. In another life, one to which she had belonged just one day ago, Alienore would have probably been scared of the woman. That would have been Eleanor’s reaction, but Alienore belonged in a world of magic, of warfare, of mysteries that couldn’t be explained. Already, those qualities were rising up in the high schooler, and she didn’t back down from the sorceress’s unflinching gaze. Instead, she returned it, her own blue eyes meeting hers, frank and proud.

               “Well, well, we finally meet, Alienore of Lyonesse” said the sorceress, smiling as if pleased with the younger girl’s response.

               “You have the advantage over me, I’m afraid. You know my name, I don’t know yours…” Alienore replied, waiting for the sorceress to provide her with the information. She hoped that her name would provide her with a clue from the legends about her identity, or at least whether her purpose was benevolent or malignant on this island. Also, she was curious about the still cloaked figures that stood in their initial spot, unmoving. There were seven left, all cloaked and hooded, and she wondered if they were merely observers or participants in the coming ceremony.

               “Indeed. Your life has been foretold, split between two ages, neither half whole. I am the High Priestess Nimueh, protector of the Old Religion and the first Gatekeeper of Avalon. In literature, some have written of me as the Lady of the Lake, which was one of my charges before it was passed on to one of my sisters” Nimueh said, inclining her head towards a slightly smaller figure at the end of the row. Alienore held a small intake of breath from Merlin, and saw him mouth a word of recognition, but she didn’t quite catch it. Instead, she turned to face Nimueh, the first Lady of the Lake, one of the most mystical people in the legend. So little had been known about her that each retelling of her story had a little in common from the one before, but here she was, standing right in front of her.

               “Last time you said there were 9 of you, yet there are only 8 of you now… Where is the last one?” Merlin asked, shaking off his earlier surprise. He had been studying the cloaked figures while Nimueh and Alienore were sizing one another up, trying to attach the names Nimueh had given him last time to a figure. It wasn’t until Nimueh pointed out his beloved Freya, still so small and fragile, that he realized that this was the first time they were face to face since the time he had laid her to the rest in the Lake of Avalon, barring her duties as the Lady of the Lake.

               “Tsk, Merlin, I thought you would remember more.”

               “I’m an old man now, Nimueh, no longer an impressionable young boy. No need to patronize me. I remember you told me Morgana was the 9th member, but I expected you to have a replacement here in order to complete the circle.”

               “I have you, Emrys. Your power will more than compensate for Morgana’s absence.”

               “I do not know how to perform a ritual of the Old Religion as ancient as this. “ Merlin said.

               “Indeed, you’ve never trained with us, Emrys. That is why we all shall draw on your power as an extra resource of strength. You shall not be an active participant in the ceremony like Morgana Pendragon would.”

               “How do you perform this ritual? Does it involve anything weird, like blood sacrifices? ‘Cause I did not sign up for that!” Alienore said, glancing from Merlin to the sorceress Nimueh. A wry smile touched the two sorcerers’ lips, breaking the heavy tension. Merlin just shook his head, smiling at Alienore.

               At the same time, unnoticed by the two people standing in the doorway on the opposite side of the room, the other Gatekeepers shifted. Some of them started murmuring, noticing the moon’s rise and the lateness of the hour, while the two smallest figures at the end of the line, stepped forward. Nimueh noticed the movement behind her, and immediately recognized the two shapes that had come forward. These two had died young, their potential (and destiny) unrealized, but both of them held deep bonds with the two people in the doorway.

               The tallest cloaked figure cleared her threat, signaling the lateness of the hour. Nimueh raised a hand to wave off her concern, saying: “Yes, we need to get started soon. However, let them have a couple of minutes to have their reunion.”

               Turning back to face Alienore and Merlin, she said, “All of us here have a personal part to play in your destinies. Some, like the lady Vivienne” she said, inclining her head towards the tall lady who had cleared her throat earlier, “you will never meet. Yet, she is Morgana’s mother, and the first preserver of the Isle of the Blessed. Others, you have met…”

               “ _Freya_!” Merlin breathed, cutting off Nimueh. His eyes were shining with a light that Alienore had never seen before. If she had been hard pressed to name it, she would have said it was a mixture of grief, hope, and love, with a touch of disbelief thrown in for good measure. He was scanning the cloaked figures, trying to see which one was the girl he had loved and lost. None of them were giving him any hint. Merlin, on his part, was feeling all of the emotions that Alienore had seen on his face, and many others. He could not believe that one of the cloaked figures was his beloved Freya. He had thought that she had long gone to sleep, forever, and instead she had been watching over him for all these years.

               Nimueh gave an indulgent smile at the young man, still so in love despite all the years that had passed between the small bloom of love that had burned so bright, so fast, so tragically cut short. She simply inclined her head, and the shortest figure of the two who had stepped forward lowered her hood. A girl, no more than 21, looked back at Merlin. She could have been Nimueh’s daughter, were the former older, because they shared a fair complexion and glistening black hair. They were also dressed similarly, with tattered dresses of a dark red color. What set them apart, except for Freya’s finer dress, was the kindness and love that shone out of the younger woman’s smile. Her gentle hazel eyes were gazing back at Merlin, shining with love that had been unhampered by the ages.

               Meanwhile, Merlin had gone still for the first time since Alienore had met him. He was gazing back at Freya, unable to move. A little tear was escaping out of the corner of his eye, and he didn’t make a move to wipe it away. No, his whole attention was focused on the girl that stood in front of him. He stepped forward, hesitantly, as if he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. His hand reached forward, almost involuntary, and was shaking badly. As if by an unspoken signal, all the stillness between the two disappeared. Freya rushed forward, to be met halfway by Merlin, who scooped her up in his arms. He kept repeating her name, over and over, in a ragged whisper, as if he could not believe that she was there, in his arms, exactly as the day he had set her adrift in the “borrowed” gown from Lady Morgana. Meanwhile, Freya kept saying “I’m here, I’m here” as if to reassure not only Merlin, but also herself, that they were actually reunited. Alienore wanted to avert her eyes, to give the two their space, because she felt as if she was intruding in a deeply personal and private moment between those two. She stared up at the wall, marveling at the strange symbols and writings from a long gone era.

               “And you, my lady of Lyonesse, I think you have your own reunion to attend.” Nimueh said, stepping away from the embracing couple and coming closer to Alienore. As if pulled by an invisible rope, the second cloaked figure that had been standing with Freya stepped followed her.

               Alienore gave a little nervous laugh. She couldn’t have a reunion if she had never gone back in the past, right? She didn’t know anybody, not outside the myths. She repeated that last thought out aloud, only to be met with a slightly mocking smile and an enigmatic reply. “My dear, just because you don’t know them yet, doesn’t mean _they_ don’t know _you_!”

               “Um, I guess?” She said, responding to the slight rebuke in Nimueh’s tone.

               “Right, may I present the Lady Elaine?” Nimueh said, gesturing to the figure standing behind her. At this cue, Elaine stepped forward and removing her hood, gave Alienore a dazzling smile. She was young, younger than all the others (so far), probably only a year or two older than Alienore herself. She was fair, with long golden hair and piercing green eyes. Her face still retained some of its childhood roundness, and yet underneath lay the framework for a stunning beauty, with high cheekbones and a heart shape. Too bad that this girl had died before she reached her maturity. Unlike the other two, whose clothing looked like it had seen some tough times, as well as if they had just stepped out of a lake, Elaine looked picture perfect. She was wearing a white dress, with green puffed sleeves. It was belted at the waist with a green ribbon, held together with a buckle bearing some kind of crest. The dress helped in adding to the ethereal qualities of her face, as if she would vanish and reappear with the wind. Something about her was weirdly familiar to Alienore. She knew that she had never seen this girl before, she would have remembered somebody who looked like this, and yet she had this weird impulse to throw her arms around her and never let her go.

               “Hello, Alienore. It’s been a long time” Elaine spoke with a musical voice, resembling the tinkling of bells. She was looking intently at Alienore, as if comparing the girl in front of her to the mental image she had of her. “I’ve missed you, _sister_.”

               With that, Elaine threw her arms around Alienore, and held tightly. Bewildered, Alienore returned the hug hesitantly at first, eventually holding on as tight as the blonde. It was there, in a stranger’s arms, that Eleanor truly understood who Alienore, the part of her who had lived in a time long gone, was and accepted her. The soul which had been split into two ages was truly reunited once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's another update! First of all, I wanted to thank all of you for reading this story! This chapter, we finally start meeting some of the Gatekeepers (we'll meet the rest of them in the next chapter) as well as an important character. In the legend, Elaine of Astolat is a noble woman who falls in love with Lancelot but when he doesn't return that love, she kills herself and is set afloat on a river that goes by Camelot. Here, Elaine will be much different, with magic and a certain kind of quiet strength. Again, thank you for reading, and reviews/comments are always appreciated!


	9. The Gatekeepers of Avalon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update! Enjoy!

At first, Merlin had been unable to see anything except Freya. After all this time, she was in his arms once more, and he never wanted to let her go. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, one of his hands resting on her waist, the other tangled in her hair. Unable to control his own voice, he repeated her name over and over. Her hand was stroking his face with butterfly soft touches, comforting him with simple words. Once he had a better grip on his emotions, he raised his head, and kissed her. He had a forgotten how much shorter than him she was, so it felt weird as he lowered his head to kiss her. However, her kiss was much the same: sweet and gentle, with a touch of insecurity. As if she could doubt how much he loved her! No, that was just Freya, she could not see how special she was to him. He deepened the kiss, telling her how much he had missed her, needed her, over the course of their long years apart. She seemed to understand, as she twined her hands around his neck and stood on her tiptoes in order to see him better. They only broke apart when they heard some throat clearings from the five remaining cloaked figures.

               “Merlin, my love, it so good to see you again.” Freya said in her gentle voice, her smile lighting up her whole face.

               “And you, Freya” Merlin replied, grabbing a hold of her hand and twining his fingers with hers. At that small gesture, her smile grew even wider, if that was even possible. Merlin knew he too was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. The sheer happiness he felt in this moment eclipsed the brief bursts of hope and laughter he had shared with Alienore on his way here. It was like coming out of a dark tunnel, and having the light temporarily blind you.

               “Come, Merlin, and meet the rest of the Gatekeepers!” Freya said, pulling him along behind her.

               “This is the Lady Vivienne. She was Lady Morgana’s and Morgause’s mother, and Igraine’s closest friend.” Freya said, standing by the tallest figure. Vivienne removed her cloak, revealing warm green eyes so similar to Morgana’s when Merlin had first met her, and the golden blond hair she had passed down to her oldest daughter.

               “It is a pleasure to finally meet one who I’ve heard so much of.” Her tone was calculating, her eyes appraising. She was so alike her daughters that it felt almost like a physical slap to Merlin. He had betrayed one of her daughters, and in the end, had killed both of them. He did not expect much warmth from Vivienne, and he did not receive any.

               He inclined his head forward, acknowledging the greeting. Once, he would have had to bow in front of somebody whose rank was so far above that of his own serving boy self, but no more. Now, he was Emrys, and none equaled him in terms of power. “Likewise, Lady Vivienne. The tales of your beauty and charm were still told in Camelot long after your passing.”

               “I don’t know about charm, young man. I made more than a few enemies in my time.” Vivienne said. Unwilling to linger, Merlin followed Freya down the line to the next figure.

               “Merlin, this is the Lady Hekate,” Freya said, as a pair of grey eyes reflected his own underneath the cloak. A woman, in her early thirties, with dull black hair stared back at Merlin. “She is your aunt, your father’s sister.” Freya added. It was almost unnecessary, because Merlin had felt their connection almost as soon as he saw her eyes.

               “Merlin, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” She said, her face warm. In a moment of spontaneity, she hugged the tall boy, despite being a good foot shorter. Then, realizing the awkwardness of her action, she immediately drew back, stammering out an apology. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me! I’m usually much more reserved, it’s just I feel like I know you… I’ve seen your progress and you look like a spitting image of your father when he was younger.”

               Merlin silenced her with a smile. “It’s okay. It is I who must be sorry. I’m just overwhelmed with the events of today, seeing Freya and finding out about an unknown aunt all in one day!” He said. Trying to lighten the mood, he added: “A man as old as me shouldn’t get these many shocks, it’s bad for my health!”

               Hekate laughed, “My boy, when you’re as old as you and I, almost nothing should shock you anymore!”

               “True, aunt, true. Yet, coming to face with unknown relatives surprises you, whether you’re fifteen or fifteen hundred.”

               “I’m sure your heart can survive the shock. After all, you don’t look a day over 19, my boy.”

               “Hey! I look at least 25!” Merlin said, mock offended.

               “No, my boy, despite your many years, you retain a certain innocence and adorable awkwardness that will always make you look right out of your teens.” Hekate said, her voice gentling.

               “Whether face I may wear, I am an old man inside. I have seen too much of the world, of what mankind can do to each other to remain innocent.”

               “Yet, despite what you protest, there is a part of you that is willing to try it all over again in order to see your friends again, to set things right. That love that you’ve held for Camelot and its inhabitants over the years will always be your strength and your innocence. It is what set you apart from all of us, in the end.”

               “Th-thank you, aunt.” Merlin said, strangely touched by the tone of caring and love coming from the woman he had never met.

               “Now go, there is others you must meet before- what is that expression kids use now days? Oh yes, before we get this show on the road!” Merlin and Freya both laughed. Hekate sounded like an old grandmother from a bad TV show, despite her youthful appearance.

               “Alright, and now we come to…” Before Freya could finish, the woman removed her hood and interrupted, saying: “I can speak for myself, Freya. I am the Lady Evienne, the last High Priestess of the North, Emrys. Unlike many others here, I can claim no personal connection to either you or the Lady Alienore. Yet, I survived all of my sisters, ruling the Celtic tribes until their eventual end. I don’t have a particular interest in your so-called great destiny, but I will do anything for the country I love. Thus, my help here is freely given, warlock.” Evienne’s eyes were steely, assessing Merlin. They were a dark brown, almost black, striking against her tan complexion. Everything about her, from her fiery red hair to her wary stance, proclaimed her to be a warrior. Merlin could very well picture her, fighting alongside the Celts for their freedom.

               “I thank you for your help, Lady Evienne.” He humbly said, inclining his head. With a single nod, Evienne dismissed him and Freya, allowing them to go down to the next person in line.

               “Right, she’s kind of intense, but she’s really nice once she thaws a bit” Freya whispered, apologizing for her companion’s curtness.

               “It’s nothing, Freya” Merlin reassured her. “I actually liked her better than Vivienne, Evienne had no qualms in telling me that while I am unimportant to her, our goals are the same for now, so we are allies. I can admire that kind of honesty.”

               “Well, there is little you can do to stop Evienne from being _brutally_ honest.” Freya replied, giggling. Merlin realized that while most of these powerful sorceresses where complete strangers to him, to Freya, they were sisters. They had shared a position, the burden of guarding the Gates of Avalon, for over a thousand years. While he had waited alone, they had shared the hardships of immortality, helping each other through the changing world.

               “Why did none of you ever reach out to me before now, Freya? Why would you leave me alone for all these years?” Merlin asked, hurt at the realization that Freya and the other Gatekeepers could have sought him out before now, that he could have gone back already, that this whole time he had spent alone, seeking, waiting, was for _nothing_.

               Freya sighed. She had known this question was coming, and the truth was, there was no easy answer to give Merlin. Not an answer that would satisfy him, because the working of destiny and fate were mysterious, even to those who wielded such great power such as Merlin and her sisters. “There is no easy answer Merlin. The workings of destiny and fate remain a mystery even to me, its perpetrator. It was always your destiny to return once you found the missing part of Alienore. Why you found her now, and not 600 years ago or 600 years from now, is unknown to me. Maybe Albion’s time of need is approaching, and maybe it is another thousand years away. We, as Gatekeepers, guard Avalon and execute the Triple Goddess’s will, but are not privy to such mysteries as this. That is the only answer I can give you. I can also tell you that I’ve always watched over you, waiting for this moment.”

               Of course, Merlin did not like her answer, but at least, it set his mind at ease a little bit. He knew that if it had been in Freya’s power, she would have spent these long years by his side, just like he would have if it had been in his power. Alas, fate had set them apart, but it had given them this precious reunion. Merlin grabbed Freya’s hand again, placing a kiss on each of her knuckles.

               “And I never thought we would have this moment, but I am beyond happy to have had this chance.” He told her. She stepped up, hugging him tight, as if memorizing the feel of him. Then, she let go of him in order to finish the introductions. She introduced him to Gwenyfair, the Lady of Air, and Ninianne, the Lady of Fire. Freya herself, was the Lady of the Lake, representing Water of course, while the Triple Goddess herself was the Lady of the Earth. Both Gwenyfair and Ninianne represent their elements not only physically, but also in their personalities. Ninianne was a short girl, with jet black hair and eyes to match, and yet in the firelight both held a glint of the flames she represented. Her temper was short, and she was fierce to protect her beliefs and those she loved. Gwenyfair, was the exact opposite. She was tall and slender, with blond hair so pale to almost seem white. Her hair and her sleeveless pink gown seemed to sway in a non-existent breeze, and she was a gentle soul, always trying to keep the peace between some of her more hot- tempered sisters.

               “Right, so now I met all of the Gatekeepers. Can you tell me how this ceremony is going to work?” Merlin asked as they stepped away from Gwenyfair, the last person in line.

               Freya shook her head. “I can’t. That is Nimueh’s job as our leader. Plus, you haven’t met us all.”

               Merlin turned around to glance at the line of Gatekeepers. All of them had removed their cloaks, and were now milling about in a lose circle. “I don’t see anyone else” Merlin replied, scanning the faces of Gatekeepers.

               “No, silly, this way!” Freya said, tugging on his arm in order to make him turn around to face the way he had entered. There, he saw Nimueh standing a little ways away, watching as a weeping pair stood, hugging and talking over one another. One of them was definitely Alienore, as Merlin recognized her honey brown hair, but he did not recognize the flaxen haired girl that was now gesturing with her hands in order to explain a point. She had not been there when he had left Alienore, but she had not been with the Gatekeepers either. Who was she?

               “That is Elaine of Astolat, the 8th Gatekeeper” Freya said. She waited a moment for the meaning of the name to sink in, for Merlin to do the math and connect it with the famous poem by Tennyson. “However, she prefers to be known as Elaine of Lyonesse, the younger sister of Alienore. She is the best friend I never had in life.” Freya continued as she guided Merlin over to meet her.

               “But how? She never even met Lancelot! I’ve always thought that Tennyson made up her whole story because I never heard of her…” Merlin asked, trying to fit this new piece of the puzzle in.

               “Indeed. She never met Lancelot because she died with Alienore, before both of their destinies could play out. As for why you might not have heard of her, Astolat were the lands that were granted to her as part of her dowry. She was the Countess of Astolat, and some historian jotted it down as her birthplace, and voila, you’ve got a whole legend around Elaine, the Lily Maid of Astolat. She much prefers to go by the title she went by in life, Princess of Lyonesse, so don’t even mention the names Tennyson or Astolat. They are kind of sore topics for her, she hates how people think her a weak-spined romantic heroine who killed herself because she could obtain the love of knight.” Freya explained as they approached.

               “Freya, we’ve only got a few minutes until start time, so make this introduction quick, alright?” called out Nimueh as they walked by her.

               “Yes, Lady Nimueh” Freya replied.

               Alienore was too busy getting to know the sister she didn’t remember to notice Merlin’s and Freya’s approach. Elaine was like the twin she had always wanted growing up, the person who got her like her sisters Pippa and Cassie got each other. Even though Alienore had only known Elaine for minutes, they could finish each other’s sentences and ended up saying the same thing at the same time. Each sister was curious about the other’s life; Elaine wanted to know what it felt like to grow up in the 21st century, while Alienore wanted to know everything about her past life. This was the reason why, as Merlin got closer, all he heard was a jumble of words and questions, as each sister was too eager to let the other finish talking.

               “And then there was this one hunt… I love baking, don’t you… and father let us learn how to wield swords and shoot bows…My favorite color is blue… Blue and silver are the colors of the house of Lyonesse... When I was little, I jumped in a pool without floaters because I thought I could swim already and almost drowned… “

               Freya cleared her throat in order to catch the girls’ attention. “Excuse me, Elaine, but Nimueh just told me that we’ve only got a few minutes left and you still haven’t met Merlin.” Then, turning towards Alienore, she smiled welcomingly. “Alienore, I’ve heard so much about you from your sister! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Freya.” She said, extending her arms hands forward in an ancient greeting between equals.

               “And I you, Lady of the Lake.” Alienore said, grasping Freya’s hands briefly.

               “Please, my lady Alienore, it’s just Freya. I used to be a simple peasant girl, without even a village to call her own, and you used to be a princess.” Freya said, an embarrassed red staining her cheeks.

               “And it’s just Alienore for me, then. You forget, I’ve gone from being a school girl to a princess in the matter of hours.” Alienore replied, trying to put the other girl at ease again.              

               “Alienore it is, then” Freya said, acknowledging the other girl’s smile with one of her own. Then, turning towards Elaine, she said: “Elaine, this is Merlin Emrys. Merlin, this is Elaine of Lyonesse.”

               Elaine smiled at Merlin as she said: “Finally I get to meet the famous Merlin! Merlin, it’s nice to finally meet the man behind so many of Freya’s stories!”

               “And it is nice to meet you, Elaine, sister of Alienore.” Merlin said politely. He wasn’t really sure of how to react to the rush of excitement and giddiness that came out of each of Elaine’s words and actions. It had been so long from the time he had been young enough to be so excited when meeting a new person that he didn’t remember how to act. His response had been wooden, and to cushion it, he smiled his most charming smile at her.             

               “So Alienore was telling me that you went to find her in high school. What did you think of it? I’ve read so many novels and seen so many movies and TV shows that portray it, but I’ve never actually gone. It sounds like such an exciting experience, though!” Elaine continued on, immediately welcoming Merlin into the small group. She treated him with a sense of familiarity, as if she had known him as long as Freya or Alienore, and for that, he was glad. She shot of question rapidly, her mouth moving at a thousand miles per hour, until Merlin threw up his hands in defeat with a small chuckle. He had held out longer than either Alienore or Freya, who were already giggling like little girls at Elaine’s determined grilling of the powerful warlock.

               “Whoah…The Spanish Inquisition really had nothing on you… I was there, I would know” Merlin mumbled, to the merriment of the giggling girls. “Well, I’m really not an expert on high school, Elaine. I only went for half a day, after all. But I’m sure Alienore would be more than happy to answer your questions.”

               “No! I want to hear it from you! Alienore already tried to explain to me, but she’s too confusing. She keeps mentioning these thing called cliques, and something called football, and a weird place called a cafe _te_ ria?” Elaine said, putting a weird stress in the word cafeteria that made it sound funny. This set off Alienore into full-blown laughter, and Merlin himself was tempted to join her. But first, he must evidently explain the concept of high school to a sixth century princess…

               “Well, for one, it is very different from all that you’ve read or seen. It is crowded and loud, and smells weird. People split off in little groups- those are the cliques that Alienore was mentioning- depending on interests. Some guys play a sport called football, which is pretty much a bunch of muscular fellows knocking heads hard. It makes as much sense as jousting did back in the day. Then, people go to classes where they are supposed to learn all the important subjects, but in reality all they actually do is talk loudly over the teacher and play around. When it is time for lunch, they head to the cafeteria to eat, and complain about how they want to go home.” Merlin took a deep breath, hoping his explanation covered all the important bases. He looked over at Alienore, who gave him an impressed nod and a thumbs up, and then to Freya, who was beaming at him. Finally, he looked at Elaine, hoping that the explanation had satisfied her. She looked to be thinking about what he’d said, and as if more questions were popping up in her head.

               Elaine was, in fact, about to ask more questions. She opened her mouth do to so, but was cut off by an amused Nimueh. “Much as I’d love to hear what else you’re going to ask poor Merlin, Elaine, we do have a ritual to start. And you know, this type of full moon only happens once every millennium and the only the fate of the world is at stake, but hey, no pressure!”

               “Yes, my lady Nimueh.” Elaine replied, looking down at her feet. However, she could hide the amused half smile on her lips.

               “I’m sorry, it may be the fact that I’m the only person here for whom magic is kinda of a new thing, but what the heck does this ritual involve?” Alienore asked, staring at each of the faces in the small circle.

               “Oh Ali, it’s nothing weird I promise!” “I don’t have the faintest clue either, Alienore” “It’s actually quite simple, you see…” Elaine, Merlin, and Freya said at the same moment.

               “That’s enough!” Nimueh said, shushing the overlapping voices. Then, turning towards Alienore, she mysteriously said, smiling the smile that had given her a reputation for cunning and trickery down the ages. “You shall see soon enough, Alienore of Lyonesse. Now, all of you, come with me. And for Pete’s sake, come quietly!”

               Obediently, Merlin and the others filed behind Nimueh, following her back to the altar. The rest of the Gatekeepers had assembled in a circle around it, each standing by one of the standing stones. Quietly, Freya and Elaine went and joined their sisters, completing the circle. Only one standing stone, to the back of Merlin and Alienore, stood empty. Morgana’s place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we meet a lot of people in this chapter... a couple of whom we might meet again later...hint, hint...haha anyways, we only one more chapter until the return to Camelot! I'll have that up as soon as I can I promise! I hope you guys like this chapter, and please review/comment! Thanks!


	10. Ritual

Nimueh paused by her stone, and glanced up at the moon. Judging it to be at the about the right position in the sky, she nodded, a signal for the ceremony to begin.

               “The Gatekeepers of Avalon are assembled here, at the most holy temple of the Old Religion to hear this petition. Petitioners, step forward and present your case to the hands of the Triple Goddess” All the Gatekeepers of Avalon spoke as one voice, their mouths moving in unison. The ritual had officially begun.

               “I am Merlin, known to the Druids as Emrys. I was the manservant of the great King Arthur, and I am the Last Dragonlord, Great Warlock of the Crystal Cave. I petition the Gatekeepers and the Goddess for their help in achieving the next part of my destiny. I need…”

               “We already know what your destiny is, warlock. The question we have for you is why? Why should we help you, especially since you’ve never been a great friend to the Old Religion?”

               Merlin felt as if the entire course of the ritual depended on his next words. He must of course placate the Goddess with reassurances of friendship of goodwill, but he also could not lie to her, because she would know. “I have never been an enemy of the Old Religion, Gatekeepers. I have actively fought against the vengeful and corrupt members who put themselves between me and my destiny, that is true. But I’ve never fought against the Old Religion per se. I respect it as much as any other religion or belief in the world today, if not more.”

               “You speak cautiously, Merlin Emrys, and wisely. In another life, you would have made a fine diplomat.” The Gatekeepers said, apparently satisfied with Merlin’s answer. Then, they collectively turned their heads toward Alienore. “And you, girl? Why are you here?”

               Alienore didn’t know how to reply to the Goddess. She was here because she had agreed to help Merlin, but she had a feeling that that wouldn’t fly with the stern Goddess that was speaking out of the mouths of the nine women. Even Elaine, sweet little Elaine, looked harsh and haughty, as if she wouldn’t have a problem denying a request if there was not enough conviction behind it. So Alienore needed not only to convince the Goddess and her mouthpieces but herself in the process. “Goddess, I am here to fulfill my destiny.” She said simply, her voice clear and strong. The time for doubts was long gone.

               “That is what you say. Yet to us, you sound not convinced. Once this ritual begins, there is no going back. Are you sure, Eleanor Hayden, formerly Alienore of Lyonesse?”

               Deep breath, she told herself. You can do this. “Great Goddess, I am sure. My hesitancy comes not from a lock of surety, but rather from my state of shock of this new world I’m discovering. Just yesterday, I was a normal girl. Magic was the stuff of fairytales and novels. And now, I’m standing here before you, ready to partake in this ritual. It is just a lot of process, but I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

               “Well spoken. You may yet make a fine queen, Alienore of Lyonesse. Very well, then. Let the ritual begin.” The Gatekeepers spoke. As soon as the last words left their mouths, all of them started levitating a few feet off the ground, their eyes glowing an unnatural orange.

               “Step forward, Alienore of Lyonesse, and lay on the altar. The Old Religion grants your request to be joined with your former body in order to fulfill the destiny cut short by your untimely death by Discord’s forces. For you, the rules are simple: you shall remember everything from this- except the knowledge of your destiny that would change your future- but you shall be physically unable to speak of it to anyone. Are these terms agreeable to you?” A disembodied voice spoke, coming from somewhere above their heads.

               Uncertainly, Alienore approached the altar, sitting down on its cool stone. It felt weird, as if it was almost vibrating from the inside. The effect of the powerful magic that had been repeatedly performed there, she supposed. “I have one question, Goddess. What happens to me after I die as Alienore of Lyonesse?”

               “I suppose what you’re also asking is what happens to her, Eleanor Hayden. Well, Alienore, after you death in your proper time, you shall be returned here, a few minutes after your departure. Then, the part of you that is Eleanor will once again take over. Your mind will probably not be able to process your other life, and will write it off as a dream or a hallucination. You will return to your normal, magic free life, none the wiser. Until, the time comes for Camelot to rise again, you shall find your way back to Avalon, where you will once again exist as both Eleanor and Alienore.”

               “Thank you, great Goddess. I accept your terms. I thank you for your help.” Alienore said as lay down on the cold stone altar. The vibrations increased, so that it sounded like a low thrum in her ears.

               “ **Wit cwertern unc hrycg, hyrcg leódfruma, æt úre ágennama bæcern, Alienore. Áfyllan úre ealdorlegu!”** This time, the sounds came from the Gatekeepers. Their voices were different somehow, older. Gone was the excited tones of Elaine or Freya’s musical accent, Vivienne’s cold tone or Gwenyfair’s breathy sounds. These voices were powerful, ancient as the words they spoke. A bright light engulfed Alienore, progressing in brightness at the chant went on, until it blinded Merlin, forcing him to look away. When he looked back, hearing the end of the spell, the light was gone. So was Alienore.

               As Alienore was engulfed by the bright light, she felt a pleasing warmth, and then the sensation of being lifted through the air. As brightly colored lights started to swim in front of her eyes, she thought she heard Elaine’s voice whisper: “Good luck, sister. I shall see you soon.” Then, the lights grew brighter and brighter, until her vision was just a field of white. She lost consciousness as she started spinning madly, traveling to space and time.

               “What have you done? Where is Alienore?” Merlin said, scanning the immobile faces of the eight Gatekeepers. He couldn’t keep the fear, nor the anger, out of his voice. He knew that that would not endear him to the Goddess, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to know Alienore was okay, that he hadn’t put his trust in the wrong people once again. That he hadn’t led an innocent girl to her death, or worse, stranded in a long gone past with no means of return.

               “We have done exactly what you have asked of us, Emrys. We sent her back to meet her destiny.” The disembodied voice said.

               “We were supposed to go together!” Merlin said, frustrated. He should have known that they would try to trick him in some way. Magic was never a straight forward path, and the Goddess took full advantage of that.

               “She struck her bargain with us, agreeing to the terms. You have not.” The Goddess said.

               “But how is she going to know what to do? She’s a twentieth first century girl, she won’t last a day alone in the sixth century!”

               “But she wasn’t always so, isn’t that right? The part of her that was Alienore will take over, behaving exactly like it always has. Except, now it will have the other half of its soul. Plus, she wasn’t sent right into the middle of the action. She was returned to Alienore’s fifteenth birthday, six years before her first death. She will have time to acclimate, to change her future in order that she does not repeat her death.” The Goddess said, not unkindly. It was more like she was a teacher, waiting for an intelligent student to grasp the concept.

               “I guess so. How will I get back?” Merlin asked, reluctantly giving in. He had no way to know if the Goddess was telling the truth, and the best way to ascertain it would be to go back himself. Plus, he was _so_ close now that he just couldn’t turn back, couldn’t destroy his one shot to fix his destiny, to see his family again.

               “That depends”

               “On?” Merlin asked, getting frustrated with the roundabout way the Goddess approached things.

               “Whether or not you accept our terms, Emrys.”

               “What are your terms, Triple Goddess of the Old Religion?”

               “First of all, I want your oath, legal and binding, that once you achieve your destiny, you will do your part in restoring the glory of this most sacred shrine of the Old Religion. Secondly, I want you to return Morgana Pendragon to her proper place, as the 9th Gatekeeper. In return for this, I will send you back to the very beginning of your destiny, a chance for you to fix it. These terms are non-negotiable. Do you agree, Emrys?”

               “How would I return Morgana to you? Her destiny always was to oppose Arthur, to fight to the death against him, while mine was always to protect Arthur.”

               “Indeed, there is little you can do to stop Morgana Pendragon from fighting against Arthur, even if you were to reveal your own magic during the early years in Camelot. Her destiny has always been to bring down the Golden Age of Camelot. But there is another side of her destiny. She was destined to return the Old Religion to its former glory. Instead, she became warped and twisted, focused only on Arthur’s doom. If she finds herself alone in this life, fighting against her brother, and repents the evil she’s done, even if it is with her dying breath, then she will be restored to me, Emrys.”

               “Alright. How do I do that?” Merlin asked, sensing that what the Goddess was asking was nearly impossible. During her later years, Morgana had only seen two kinds of people: enemies and tools to use to bring down her enemies. She had become so twisted, no traces left of the kind, emphatic girl she had been. Merlin doubted there was anything that would make her repent all that she had done. In her mind, it had been all for the greater good.

               “I cannot tell you how, only that you must. Now, do you agree?” The Goddess was reminding him of Kilgharrah, his old friend, weirdly enough. She was setting him to an impossible task, and expecting him to figure it out without any further help. Funny how it didn’t matter how old you got, or how wise or good you thought yourself to be, some things never changed. He could picture himself and Arthur, bent over with age, their hair white. Yet, Arthur would still order him about and Merlin would still call him a clotpole. Even if Arthur had never reached that age, Merlin knew that he would never change, not when it came to Merlin. No, some things never change, and that was a good thing.

               “Fine. I agree to your terms and will try to carry them out to the best of my abilities.” Merlin said, wanting to get this ritual forward. Now that he had started thinking of Arthur, he couldn’t stop. Waves of missing his friend rolled in, with the memories of their good times and bad times. They were soon followed by those of Gwen, of brave Lancelot and reckless Gwaine, of loyal Leon and stern Percival, of kind Elyan and wise Gaius. He wanted to return, to go, _now!_

               “Good. Lay on the altar, Emrys. We are going to need your power to send you back.”

               “Draw however much you need” Merlin said, approaching the altar at an half run, half walk. Unlike Alienore, he didn’t hesitate to lie down on it. He didn’t fear the past, he welcomed it. Even though keeping his secret had been a heavy burden, and his constant worry for his destiny had been another, those years in Camelot had been his happiest.

               “You’ve heard my explanation to Alienore of Lyonesse on how she will get back. You, unlike her, will not die. That means that you shall wait once again, until this date comes around. Then, you too shall return here, where I will tell you if you did manage to change the future or not, and give you further instructions. Are you still willing to do this?” The Goddess asked.

               Merlin had blanched when he realized that if he did go through this, he would have another millennium of loneliness, awaiting the return of his king. Did he really wish to see his friends so much that he would go through another such period? But, really, what was his other option? Arthur would not be coming back, not unless Merlin went back and fixed his broken destiny, so what was the point in staying? A half can never truly hate what makes it whole, but neither can it really live without it. So, yes, he would wait another millennium if it meant he could be reunited with Arthur and the rest of his friends now.

               “Yes, I guess I am. Even though that is a steep price you are asking me to pay.” Merlin said.

               “All magic comes with a price, Merlin Emrys. Also, I cannot clearly allow you to retain your memories, since I am returning you to the very beginning of your destiny.”

               “WHAT?!? I cannot change my destiny if I do not remember!” Merlin said, sitting up in outrage.

               “Yet, you know too much about your future. Oftentimes, when you try to stop a future, you just end up accelerating its arrival. One day, you might thank me for this.” Sensing Merlin’s unhappiness with this, she sighed, and then added, “I guess I could compromise on this. You will not have any of your memories, not until you once again hear Alienore’s voice. If she is strong enough to fulfill her destiny and find her way to you and Arthur, then you shall remember and together try and change destiny. If not, then maybe you are doomed to unknowingly repeat the same mistakes as last time, or not.”

               Realizing that his was a big boon coming from the unwavering goddess, Merlin nodded and humbly said: “Thank you, Goddess, for your kindness. When will I meet Alienore?”

               “That depends on her. I sent her back to the time Alienore of Lyonesse was fifteen, which would mean that you yourself were fifteen at the time. I shall send you back to your eighteenth birthday, which means I would not expect to see her for at least three years. She will come to you warlock, under no circumstances must you go look for her.”

               “Yes, Goddess.”

               “Good, then I think we’ve gotten everything cleared up. I see bright things for this time around, Emrys, for this time all the players are assembled. A word of caution, though. It is Arthur’s destiny to die at Mordred’s hand, that is why he is the _Once and Future_ King. The only thing you can change is how and when. Will he die at the beginning of his kingship, with the seeds of Albion only just sown, or will he die in the middle of his Golden Age? Will he die by an angry Mordred’s hand or will he die by a Mordred’s guided by Morgana’s vengeance? Those are all possible outcomes of your destiny, it is up to you to see which one comes to pass.”

               “Thank you for your words of wisdom, Goddess.” Merlin said, shaken that his guess was true. Even if he went back, tried his hardest to fix his destiny, Arthur was still going to die. But this time he will rise again, said a little voice in the back of his head. That did not reassure him in the slightest in the moment, but he still laid back down on the altar, ready to return to Camelot.

               “ **Wit cwertern unc hrycg, hyrcg leódfruma, æt úre ágennama bæcern, Merlin Emrys. Áfyllan úre ealdorlegu**!” chanted the 9 Gatekeepers. Merlin felt a great pull on his power, and willingly shared it with the powerful sorceresses. As his vision went black and he was engulfed by powerful magic, he couldn’t help the grin that escaped him. He was going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone has gone back... From this point forward, the story is going to be told one chapter from Merlin's perspective and the next from Alienore's all the way till they meet again. Merlin's story will pick up from when he leaves Ealdor for Camelot (on his 18th birthday)*, while Alienore's starts off three years earlier. Just to clarify, the chapter's from Alienore's perspective do not take place at the same time as the ones from Merlin's since the Goddess sent him back three years ahead of Alienore. That also means that the time gaps between the Alienore chapters will be bigger than those in the Merlin chapters, since in the end they have to match up to the same timeline. The chapters from Merlin's perspective are going to be looking back on some of the stuff from mostly seasons one and two so far... I'm sorry if this is really long and confusing... Anyways, thank you so much for reading and comments/reviews/suggestions are always welcome!
> 
> *Merlin is actually three months younger than Alienore, her birthday is September 10th and his is December 21st


	11. Chapter Eleven: Welcome Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, was away for two weeks! Here are two chapters in a row to make up for it!

_“Now we’re back to the beginning, it’s just a feeling and no one knows yet"_

               It was Merlin’s eighteenth birthday. He had woken up early to meet Will outside the village, where they usually went to collect firewood. In a way, it had been their own goodbye. Growing up, they had never been apart for longer than a couple hours. Where one went, the other followed. Yet, now everything had changed. Will had discovered Merlin’s magic, and worse, Hunith, Merlin’s mom, knew about it now. That was why she was sending Merlin off today, to her old friend Gaius in Camelot. She hoped that Gaius, one of the most knowledgeable people in the Five Kingdoms, would know how to help Merlin learn and control his magic. Otherwise, her boy was ruined, forced to leave with a death sentence over his head like his father. Not that Merlin knew that, of course. That would just place an even heavier burden upon his shoulders, knowing who his father was, and she didn’t want to do that. Not to Merlin, always so kind, so innocent, so happy!

               Merlin did not know of the inner dilemma that was going on in his mother’s mind. Instead, he was facing Will, who was tearfully begging him not to go. “I’m sorry Will, but I have to.”

               “But why, Merlin? Is it about your magic? I swore that I wouldn’t tell, and I will keep my promise!” The boy said.

               “I know that, Will, and so does my mother. But people in the village are getting suspicious, and Mother was always planning on sending me to Gaius eventually. It’s for the best that I just go now.” Merlin said, a tone of finality in his voice. Both boys knew that once Merlin made up his mind, there was no changing it. It had been evident since they were boys, when one of their toys had gotten stuck in a tree. Merlin had been determined that he would get himself, without any help from the villagers. He had climbed up the tree, and reached the toy (with a little magical help, unnoticed by Will) and was on his way back down when a branch had broken. Fortunately, Merlin had only broken an arm, but the escaped taught Will one thing: once Merlin made his mind up, there was no use in trying to change it.

               “So your mind is made up?” Will asked, just to hear the words spoken out aloud.

               “Yes, Will. Don’t worry, we’ll still keep in touch. There are always letters, and I’m sure I’ll be visiting whenever I can!” Merlin said with some of his characteristic optimism. He was trying to lift the other boy’s spirits, because he knew what a crushing blow this was to Will. This separation was not going to be easy for either of them, but they had always known it was coming. They were always going to grow up, move around, and eventually drift apart. This was just coming a little bit sooner, and was going to be a bigger separation, than either of them had thought.

               “I guess the only thing to say is good luck, then.” The brown haired boy said.

               “Thanks, Will. Could you do me a favor? Can you look after my mother for me, make sure she has all that she needs?” Merlin asked, hesitantly. Even though Will was taking this a little bit better now, he still worried about asking him such a huge favor.

               “Of course. You know I would have done it even if you hadn’t asked.” Will said, slightly hurt that Merlin had felt the need to ask. Hunith had been a second mother to him growing up, and of course he would look after her as he would have his mother, were she still here.

               “I know, Will. You are the best mate a bloke could ever ask for.” Merlin said.

               “Yeah, well make sure those visits are pretty frequent. We don’t want you to become a pampered city boy, now do we?” Will said.

               Merlin laughed. “The old physician is probably just going to have me rearrange a couple plants once in a while. I’m sure he won’t mind frequent visits home.” Merlin said. Both boys laughed, and then headed together back towards the small village. Neither knew how wrong they were.

               At the center of the village, (really only the town well were people gathered in times of need) Merlin said his goodbyes to Will and turned toward his mother’s home. He had to set out pretty soon if he was going to make it to Camelot by the day after tomorrow, so he was just going to break his fast with his mother and then head off. When he opened the door to the small, one room cabin, his mom was waiting for him.

               “Mother. I didn’t know you were already up!” Merlin said.

               Hunith paused in her bustling to and forth to smile up at her son. He had grown so tall lately that now she had to tilt her head back just to look him in the face. “Not to worry about. I knew you wanted to say your goodbyes to Will.”

               “Still, I would have helped with breakfast!” Merlin protested. His mother had a tendency to mother everyone, which ended up with her overdoing it. Since he understood that, he had done his best to help out whenever he could, and try to steer her on a more moderate course.

               Hunith scoffed at the idea. “I wouldn’t make you prepare your own breakfast on your birthday, silly boy! Now, this is almost ready, so why don’t you go check if you’re all packed up, and then we’ll eat it?”

               Merlin moved behind the small curtain that separated their living space from their sleeping space. He wasn’t bringing much with him, so his pack was small. He only had a couple spare shirts (in red and blue, his favorite colors), another warmer jacket, meant to be worn in winter, and a blue neckerchief. He was wearing his red neckerchief now, because his mother had told him red was the color of the Pendragons, the ruling family of Camelot. He figured it was good luck. In the front pocket of his pack, he held the letter of introduction his mother had written to Gaius for him, the most important thing he would be carrying with him. Finally, he had a couple provisions for his nights on the road, but they weren’t much. In a border village such as Ealdor, food was always scarce, and Merlin and Hunith barely got by each winter.

               He grabbed the pack, and giving the sparsely furnished room a last glance, parted the curtain. Setting the pack down by the door, he turned to the small table and sat down in one of the two chairs. His mom had set out two bowls of steaming oatmeal, their typical morning meal. Eating with the gusto of youth, he burned his tongue with his first few bites, causing Hunith to laugh. No matter how mornings Merlin burned his tongue on the hot oatmeal, he would still do it again the next morning. It was one of those little things that you learn about people when you live them, the things you end up missing the most once they leave. “So you’re all ready, huh?” Hunith asked.

               “Yep!” Merlin answered as soon as he swallowed his last spoonful of oatmeal.

               “Then I guess you better get going” Hunith said, standing up to collect the dishes. Placing them atop the small counter against the back wall, she turned around to look at Merlin. He was bending over to pick his pack, placing it atop his shoulders. Crossing the room, she reached up to touch his face. “Promise me that you will be good, Merlin?” she said, staring into his stormy grey eyes, so alike that of his father.

               “I promise, Mother.” Merlin replied, bending down to hug his much shorter mom. They held on tightly for a few seconds, until Hunith broke the embrace by stepping away. Turning her face away so Merlin wouldn’t see the tears she hastily wiped away, she turned back around to smile at her son.

               “Then go. Your destiny is waiting.” She said, somewhat tearily. As Merlin opened the door, she called out, “Don’t forget to write!”

               She watched as Merlin walked away, out of the village and over the hill that would soon obscure him from her sight. There, he turned back around to wave, and then walked on, disappearing towards the forest and his future. Stepping back inside, Hunith gave in her to her tears. She had done all that she could to help Merlin, to protect him, and yet the separation still hurt.

               Merlin was unaware of his mother’s dilemma back at the house. Instead, he was too caught up in the wonder of his adventure, of his new life. He was caught up day dreaming, so that the miles that he traveled on foot seemed to disappear beneath him. Before he was really aware of how far he’d gotten, night was falling, and he stopped by a creek bed to make camp. After bumbling about the woods, trying and failing to build a campfire, he settled to eat a couple of dried foods he had in his pack and some berries that he had recognized as non-harmful. After, he quickly fell asleep, lulled to sleep by the dim light of the stars in the moonless sky and the quiet sounds of the forest.

               The next morning, Merlin was up at dawn. Since he had been unable to start a fire the night before, he had little to collect, so he was soon off. The previous day he had had to travel through rough terrains and mountains, and had thus not made good time. Today, his path was relatively flat. He just had to follow the river all the way to the Darkling Woods, which he would then cross to approach Camelot. Setting off, he walked briskly, not meeting anyone except for a startled family of deer. At around noon, he saw a lake in the distance, and decided to stop there for lunchtime. As he approached, he saw that it was actually surrounded by a young forest, and it was circled by mountains on one side. The lake itself was breathtaking, a sparkling blue that was so clear that Merlin could see himself in it. His reflection showed an eager young man, with a mischievous twinkle in his stormy grey eyes, and large ears. He was about to take a drink of the water, it looked so refreshing, when something stopped him. He slowly stood up, looking around. Something about this place was oddly familiar, and yet he was sure that he had never been here before. This was the first time that he had traveled beyond Ealdor’s borders. Yet, the more he stared around the lake, a picture of tranquility and serenity, the more it seemed familiar. His eyes traveled over the shore, settling on the small tree stump covered by some of the older trees. _That is my stump_ said a voice in Merlin’s head. He looked around, checking if anybody else was there with him. No, he was alone. That had been a voice inside his head, a voice that sounded eerily like his own inner voice, yet older and wiser. He went over to sit on the stump, and ate some of his lunch. Meanwhile, he was puzzling out the mystery of the lake. Why was it so familiar? Why did its crystal blue water and distant island, hidden from his sight by a mist, seem so familiar. Why did this place- _Avalon_ , whispered the voice again- bring up such feelings of sadness, of loss, of despair inside him?

               He stared at the lake, as if it would provide him with a decent answer, but had no luck. The only thing he sensed, apart from his own discomfort, was a great deal of magic in the lake and its surrounding forest. Unwilling to linger, even for a well-deserved rest, he picked up his pack and started walking again. However, when he reached the point where another step would have obscured his view of the lake, he couldn’t resist turning around. It was as if the lake had bewitched him, the same voice as earlier compelling him. _Goodbye, old friend_ , the voice whispered, this time referring to the lake. Then, the voice fell quiet, as if it had spoken to Merlin at a great cost and had now fallen back asleep to recover its energy. Merlin turned back to the road, and walked on. He soon forget about the accident, caught up in the excitement of his arrival in Camelot, but something stuck with him. The sense of utter sadness, of worldliness that the voice that had been his and yet not his had spoken with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote at the beginning is from the song The Call by Regina Spektor (which was part of the inspiration for this story!)  
> So, who do you guys think the voice whispering in Merlin's head is? :)


	12. Chapter Twelve: Culture Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second update!

_“Like everyone, she must live and learn”_

               Alienore woke up with a gasp, startled by the smells around her. She could smell horses, unwashed bodies, and cooking. Not a pleasant mix to wake up to. Her sheets were rough against her hand, rougher than any sheets she had ever felt before. Instead, the velvet cover was the smoothest, softest thing she had ever felt, including the velvet coverings in Merlin’s spare bedroom. She had always been slow at waking up, going through several stages of alertness before actually opening her eyes. In this case, the memories of the ritual the night before snapped her awake, causing her to suddenly sit up in bed, opening her eyes. She looked around, taking in her decidedly medieval surroundings. She was in a canopied bed, made of a dark cherry wood, a little bit lighter than the bed she had slept in the night before. Her curtains (because it seemed that curtains were de rigeur in medieval beds) were a dark blue, almost navy color, which was echoed by the velvet coverlet and some of the stitched pillows. The coverlet had rich silver embroidery on the outside edges, and the same embroidery was found on the pillows. It was one of those that Alienore grabbed, studying the emblem that was finely embroidered on top of it with silver thread. On it, a silver shield was framed by a long blue ermine mantle, embroidered with silver fleur de lys. On top of the shield, a golden crown shone, representing royalty, and gathered up the top of the ermine mantle. On the shield itself, an owl and a lion were depicted with the same precise navy stitches. Only, the owl appeared to be standing atop the lion’s mane, as if it was counseling the lion. Beneath the shield, a simple sentence was inscribed, which Alienore assumed to be the motto of whatever house she found herself in. “ **Mentis super jurgium** ” she read. The phrase itself seemed oddly familiar, even though it was in what appeared to be Latin. She wondered where she had heard it before. Of course, it was something her grandmother had told her once, a long time ago! It was Latin for “brains over brawn,” their private little motto. Since Alienore had always been the one more inclined towards school and her sisters had always excelled at sports, she and her professor grandmother had shared a much closer bond than her sisters. When Alienore was feeling left out by the general sports talk in the family, her grandmother would whisper, “Mentis super Jurgium” and wink at her. It became their own private joke, a link to their private little world. While to her sisters visiting her grandmother for Sunday lunch was a chore, to Alienore it was a treat. Oftentimes, she stayed after the rest of the family, helping with the dishes and chatting over tea and biscuits that her grandmother imported from her home country of Italy. This was the time when Alienore got to be her own inner self, the geekiest version of her. Through her professor grandmother, Alienore met deans, grad students, and other professors, and learned things far beyond her age. But no matter, who came over, at six o’clock on the dot, her grandmother shooed everyone out. Then, they would quietly sit and talk, play board games, or read. Alienore would help her grandmother prepare dinner, learning traditional Italian dishes as she went along. Oftentimes, Alienore slept over in her grandmother’s tidy apartment, so much so that she started leaving clothes and possessions in her grandmother’s spare room.

               Alienore was interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying outside her door. She held her breath, hoping they would pass by her room without entering. She drew a deep sigh when they kept moving, all the way down the hallway, fading into the distance. It was only a matter of time before someone entered her room, and she hoped that Merlin could find her first. Otherwise, how would she explain to the inhabitants of the castle why she could not speak their language, or worse, why she could not recognize people she had known the day before. And how would she explain her foreign, twentieth-first century clothing? Alienore thought, looking down. Except, she did not see her worn jeans, blue sneakers and blue cardigan. Instead, she saw a white gown, lacy and gauzy, with an empire waist and an embroidered neckline. In her time, it could have passed for a simple wedding dress. Here, she supposed it was a typical nightgown. Yet, those jeans and cardigan had her phone, her wallet, her last link to her old life. She wondered what had happened to them. On the heel of that thought came another, which froze her in her tracks and chilled her to the bone. What must her parents be feeling, with her gone, no visible trace of her? No, the Goddess lady had said she would return Alienore to moments after the ritual, so she wouldn’t be missing for years. But still, by the time the ritual had happened, Alienore had been gone for two days. Her parents must be beside themselves with worry, scouring the city for her. And how would she explain when she suddenly turned up in England, with no passport or proof of having flown there? She sat down on the bed again, rather heavily, and ran around in circles in her head. She hoped that Merlin would have some answers, but she hadn’t seen him anywhere. Where was he? He was only a few minutes behind her, so why hadn’t he made an appearance yet? He had promised, sworn on all he had ever held dear, that he would be here to guide her. Then where was he? She thought, pacing back and forth.

               She was interrupted by her door opening. A girl, older than her by a few years, came in holding a basket of clothing. She was startled to see Alienore up and moving at this time in the morning, and made a hasty curtsy. It was hampered by the gigantic basket that she was holding, but somehow she managed to do it without spilling a single item of clothing inside of it. “My lady! I didn’t know you were up already!” The woman, Brownen, supplied an unknown part of Alienore’s brain, said. She started bustling around the room, tossing another piece of firewood in the dying embers of the fire, tidying up the papers on the desk that stood in a corner, and picking up a couple of fallen pillows. Then, she moved over to the wardrobe, where she started hanging various gowns made in sumptuous materials. Alienore only caught glimpses of bright velvets, shiny satins, and soft lace in an array of colors. She noticed a lot of blues and silvers, with a few dark greens and shades of purples sprinkled in. Weirdly enough, those were all of Alienore, this Alienore’s favorite colors. It meant that even though the two different sides of her had grown up centuries apart, their tastes were still the same. It was comforting to see a little piece of home, so far away from all that was comfortable.

               “I didn’t sleep well last night” was the first excuse that popped into Alienore’s head, and so she repeated it aloud. Or at least, she tried to. It came out weirdly, all consonants and harsh vowels. She realized that it was the same tongue that the maidservant had spoken in, which meant the newfound memories (belonging to the original Alienore, the one who had died) she was discovering extended to language.

               “I am sorry to hear that, my lady. Are you feeling ill? Shall I fetch the Court Physician?” The maidservant asked, concern written on her face. If nothing else, Brownen really cared about Alienore, almost like an older sister would. Except, for the wide gap in their stations. That too was going to take some getting used to, since just a couple days ago she had been an average girl, with working class parents. Just hearing Brownen call her my lady was freaking Alienore out, she kept glancing over her shoulders to check for somebody actually deserving the title. Instead, it was just her in the room with the busy manservant, so Alienore looked back at the maidservant to assure her she did not need a doctor.

               “No, no, I’m fine. I’m sure it will soon pass.” Alienore said, rising.

               “Oh good, my lady. Are you ready to get dressed, then?”

               “Ummm, sure…” Alienore replied, uncertain on what that entailed. It’s not like Merlin had given her Medieval Court Etiquette book to read, nor was he here to explain what was expected of her. For the umpteenth time that day, Alienore wondered where Merlin was. This would be a lot simpler with him showing her the ropes, helping her acclimate. Was a certain dress more appropriate for a state dinner, while another more appropriate for a day spent lounging around? And did she even own a something comfortable, which she could wear to learn how to defend herself (as soon as she figured out how to do that too)? That was one of the things that Alienore had come up with on the long walk to the Isle of the Blessed. If she was going to change her fate this time around, she would have to know how to defend herself with something more than words, her go to weapon. No, she needed something that would help her in the sixth century, something like archery or fencing. Did they even call it fencing back then? No matter what it was called, learning how to use a sword was a top priority for Alienore at this point. She was not going to take her destiny lying down, not this time.

               “Good! Would you like to start the day with a round of archery, or down to the Council Room?” Brownen asked, smiling at Alienore. She was holding up to different outfits. One was an elaborate navy and lavender piece, with different layers and rich embroidery. It screamed the owner’s wealth, something that was meant to show off and showcase, not comfort. The other was a pair of brown leggings (pants! Blessed pants!) and a long tunic, made out of the same warm and comfortable material. The tunic was a dark green color, dark enough to blend in with the forest. The outfit was completed by a silver belt, made of hammered links, which was meant to hang low over Alienore’s hips, and a brown strap for a quiver of arrows. This was the exact thing Alienore was looking for, something that would allow her the freedom to move around and fight, if the occasion needed it.

               “Archery, please.” Alienore said, returning Brownen’s smile somewhat slowly. While she had gotten up quicker than usual, the earliness of the morning was catching up to her, making her groggy and slow. A brisk round of exercise and fresh air should wake her right up.

               “Of course, my lady. Same as usual.” Brownen replied, replacing the beautiful blue dress in the wooden armoire, and taking out a pair of tall sheepskin boots to match the outfit. “Will you need help today with a bath, or would you rather take one after you’ve had your archery bout?”

               “I think after archery, Brownen. I’m sure I can manage to get myself dressed in this…” Alienore continued, as the maidservant approached with the pile of clothing.

               “But, my lady, how are you going to reach the fastenings on the back?” Brownen asked, shocked at the strange request.

               “Ummm” was all that Alienore could say, unsure of the answer herself. She had not been thinking earlier, just blurting out the first thing that came in her head. It’s not like this clothing would have such modern commodities as buttons, zippers, or fastenings. It was all probably tied, and, judging from her intricate nightgown, most of those ties were found on the backside of the garments. Still, the twentieth first century girl in Alienore felt awkward and clumsy in letting the maidservant undress and redress her. She had been dressing herself ever since she had been old enough to do so, at least Eleanor had. In this case, it didn’t seem she would have much of a choice. She needed to behave similarly to the original Alienore, staying in character while she got the hang of all things medieval. Then, she could start making small changes here and there, until the person Alienore had been resembled the person she was more closely. Although, if the choices in dresses and colors were any indication, maybe the two versions of Alienore were more similar than she had previously thought. Maybe she just needed the push, the forwardness that Eleanor had, being born in a century a lot freer than the one she currently inhabited. As Brownen led Alienore behind the screen to get changed, she gave a small sigh. Medieval 101 had started, and failing the class was not an option in this case.

               A while later, Alienore was finally dressed. While the outfit had seemed fairly simple when Brownen had held it up, especially when next to the elaborate blue one, it had been quite difficult to get into. Frankly, there was no way Alienore could have done it by herself. Heck, she couldn’t have figured out half of the ties and loops, and what went where, if it hadn’t been for Brownen’s gentle guidance. Now, Brownen had gone down to fetch Alienore’s breakfast, and she was sitting at the desk she had spied earlier. In front of her sat a piece of parchment and a quill that looked like they had come out one of the Harry Potter movies. She had been sitting there, staring at the writing tools, for at least ten minutes. She had no clue on how to use them, despite having used calligraphy pens before. What she wouldn’t do for a Bic right then! Her intent had been to make a list of things she had to do/find so that she wouldn’t forget anything. Timidly picking up the sharpened quill, Alienore barely dipped it in the inkpot, and then wrote ‘To Do’ on the top of the page in her sprawling cursive. The words seemed to pour out of her, until her list resembled this:

**_TO-DO_ **

  * _Find Merlin_
  * _Learn how to use a sword_
  * _Find some clothing that I can wear without anyone’s help_
  * _Discover where-and when- I am_
  * _Figure out how to behave in this weird world_



               Some of these she could accomplish easily by just watching and listening, such as discovering where and when she was, or behavior. Others, like finding Merlin, were going to be a little bit harder. She could of course ask around if anyone had heard of him, but she remembered him saying that he had been Arthur’s manservant, and people tended not to take notice of manservants. Maybe Brownen would know, being a maidservant, so she would be a good place to start.

               Alienore intended to ask her as soon as the maidservant came back in with breakfast, but she was sidetracked by the arrival of Elaine right behind the maidservant. She burst in the room, in a flurry of skirts and trailing hair, jumping on Alienore.

               “Sister! It is so good to see you!” Elaine said, hugging Alienore tightly. Alienore had only caught a glimpse of the blond girl, but she could tell that she was younger than the last time they had met. The Elaine she had seen on the Isle of the Blessed had been unchanged since the moment of her death, stuck in an in between state. Here, Elaine looked younger, her face rounder, her voice higher pitched with the joys of childhood. That meant that they still had a few more years, time for Alienore to get to know this sister, to change their destinies.

               “And I you.” Alienore said, hugging the slight girl back. Even though she had only known Elaine for a brief time, she was surprised to find out how much that was true. Elaine was familiar, someone she had already met, even though the girl only knew her as her older sister now. Moreover, she felt right, their relationship easy and nice.

               “I came home a little bit early because I wanted to see you! I mean, Mithian is nice and all, but she just doesn’t compare to you, Ali!” Elaine said, speaking in her habitual rapid tones. Alienore gave a short bark of laughter, glad to see the same habits in this younger version.

               “I’m glad you did. I missed you too, Laine.” Alienore, the nickname falling easily off her tongue. She remembered that Elaine and their brother, Graham, had gone on a state visit to Nemeth. Nemeth’s crown princess was Mithian, a dear friend of Alienore and all of the children of Lyonesse. But, she and Alienore shared a bond that the others couldn’t: they both had the burdens of their kingdoms on their shoulders. Together, they had learned how to shoot a bow, how to smile graciously at the end of a boring speech by a diplomat, how to ride horses, how to dance. Of course, Mithian’s father and Alienore’s were close friends, and since their kingdoms bordered, plenty of visits were exchanged between the two royal palaces. However, Alienore had not been over to Nemeth for quite a while, ever since the start of her father’s illness. Mysteriously, he had fallen ill, and while the doctors could find no cure, he was in a stable condition. He could not move from his bed, however, and required a lot of rest. Since the illness, about six weeks earlier, Alienore had assumed all the duties of a Queen, becoming Regent even though she was only fifteen.

               Elaine saw Alienore’s face cloud over as the rush of memories hit. Worried, she asked: “Are you alright, Ali?”

               “Yes, I’m fine. But look at you! You look like you’ve grown a year in a fortnight!”

               Elaine looked at herself, blushing a little bit. “I’m still thirteen, thank you very much. I wouldn’t want to be fourteen,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “because then boys could start courting me!” Alienore laughed, thinking that she sounded so much like a modern girl. Despite the different trappings and language, she was quickly learning that people were still the same, whether in the sixth century or the twentieth first.

               “Hey! Don’t laugh! I’m serious!” Elaine said, mock-offended.

               “I’m sorry… It’s just…” Alienore started to say, but couldn’t resist another chuckle

               “Well, then I won’t tell what I came up here to tell you…”

               “No, no, tell me! I’m sorry for laughing!”

               “Fine” Elaine huffed. Then she couldn’t resist a smile of pure glee as she relayed the news to her older sister. “Princess Mithian is coming for a visit to surprise you!”

               “What?” Alienore asked. She was delighted that her friend was coming for a visit, that’s true, but at the same time her mind was racing. A princess came with a large retinue, and it took days to prepare quarters for them. The palace of Lyonesse was definitely not ready for a visit from royalty. “Laine, how far behind you was she?” Alienore asked.

               “A few hours, maybe? I rode ahead with only a couple knights.” Elaine said, a frown crossing her face. “I thought you’d be happier that Mithian was coming to visit…”

               “I am!” Alienore quickly reassured her. “It’s just that entertaining royalty, even someone like Mithian, comes with a standard and I’m worried we won’t be able to meet it on such short notice, especially with Father… I just don’t want this to be a poor reflection of Lyonesse during Father’s illness.” Alienore explained.

               “Oh. Well, she’s only traveling with Graham and a retinue of knights as escorts.” Elaine said, assuaging some Alienore’s fears. At least, it was a small party.

               “Brownen!” She called. The woman hurried in from the adjacent room, where she had been overseeing Elaine’s unpacking.

               “Yes, my lady?” she asked.

               “The Lady Elaine just informed me that we have a guest coming. Princess Mithian and small retinue of knights are going to be staying with us. See that their chambers are prepared.” Alienore said.

               “Of course, my lady. I shall see that Princess Mithian’s usual chamber is prepared. Is there anything else?” Brownen asked, her calm unflapped.

               “No, thank you, Brownen.” Alienore smiled at the woman, who bowed and exited the room, giving orders to maids to finish the unpacking.

               Alienore turned to Elaine, who had been staring at her outfit. “I was just about to go down and do a little bit of archery. Do you want to come watch?” She asked.

               “Yes!” Her sister beamed up at her. Jumping up, she ran to the door without a backward glance for Alienore who followed at a more sedate pace. While her body seemed to follow a path of its own, remembering the castle, Alienore was dumbstruck while walking through its halls. It looked so similar to the castles she had visited on trips with her family, except it was brand new. The stones shone a bright golden, the tapestries that decorated its walls had none of the dust she had encountered, and people walked around it like it was normal. To them, it was. To the medieval citizen, a castle had been a feat of engineering, an almost impregnable fortress in case of attack, a safe haven as well as place of power. To Alienore, it was an antiquated form of palace, something out of a fairytale or a history book. The other castles she had visited had been empty, desolate in their stark interiors. They barely held the echoes of the magnificence they must have held in their glory, similar to the one she now saw all around her. Most of all, they had seemed so cold, so far removed from the people that had lived and loved there, that Alienore had always been glad to get out of there. Instead, the castle around felt alive, bursting with life and people, its colors shiny and bright.

               She stepped out in the bright sunlight. Heading instinctively for the practice field. It was beyond the inner bailey of the castle, right before the outer walls of the castle. It was situated a bit to the right of the drawbridge, flanked by the side wall on one side and the stables on the other. Beyond the wall, she could see the city sprawling down, the tall flags of the tournament fields, the thatched roofs of the lower town, and beyond the city walls, the surrounding countryside. The city itself was built on a cliff, with the cast at its highest point, and the rest of the city sloping downhill. To fortify the city even further, it was split into levels, each walled and defensible. In case of attack, the invaders would have to get through five different walled sections, where they could checked for long enough that archers could pick them off. If they did get through those defenses, the castle walls were highly defensible. However, in the whole history of Lyonesse, no invading army had ever breached the fourth wall from the entrance. It was a testimony to the engineering genius that had built the city upon the tall cliffs facing the water, as well as the power of Lyonesse’s army. An army that Alienore would one day command. Just the thought of it sent the twentieth first century girl in Alienore scurrying, making her want to hide under her bed and never come out. Instead, another side of Alienore was slowly emerging, one that felt calm enough to rule over a land and brave enough to lead an army. That side was evident throughout archery practice, where she hit the bulls’ eye on every single target, to the delight of Elaine, who had set up a blanket to watch. The precision of her shots and the sheer autonomous way she handled the bow surprised Alienore, but it was just another case of the memories of Alienore and Eleanor merging. Eleanor had never picked up a bow in her life, while Alienore was an expert archer. She found an odd peace in the practice, the repeated movement of drawing an arrow and knocking it on the bow, and calculating the distance and angle in order to hit the center of the target. All too soon, Brownen came out to call her in, and Alienore turned in her weapons to a young squire, who had been eagerly waiting to assist her. Sending him off with her thanks, she joined Elaine in the walk back up to the castle, chattering innocently with her.

               Once they each reached their floor, they separated. Alienore’s room was atop a tower, at the end of the corridor, while Elaine’s was the last room on that floor. As Alienore walked up the curved staircase, she felt almost like a storybook princess, living in a tower. Except, the wicked sorceress and handsome prince were both missing so far. She could very well do without the wicked sorceress, actually any kind of villain, but the handsome prince would not come remiss. Actually, she would very settle for a knight. Maybe Lancelot, the hero of her girlhood dreams, or Gwaine, the bad boy of the Knights of Camelot, if what Merlin had told her was true. She had always been a sucker for a bad boy, someone to reform. But she definitely would not be going after Arthur. From all that she’d heard, both in the traditional legends and from Merlin himself, he was a stuck up prat with a hero streak and penchant for putting himself in harm’s way. Plus, Arthur and Guinevere were a love story for the ages, something untouchable. And there was no way that an average girl from a little country town could match Guinevere, Queen of Camelot in beauty and grace. No, she was much better off day dreaming about a knight, fearless and brave, to come to her rescue. But, if she had any choice in it, she would need no rescue, not this time. This time around, she was going to rescue herself. She gave a silent laugh, thinking on how far her brain wondered. She could see a picture, a person, even an object, and make up their entire life story in five minutes flat. It was what her parents had politely called her imagination and what other people had called too emotionally invested in random things. She didn’t really care what people thought of her, but sometimes she could go too far, creating little movies and storylines for herself to play out in her head. That was why her second grade teacher had recommended writing, and since that summer, Alienore had kept a diary, writing down stories that popped in her head as well as how she spent her days. Over the years, the habit had stuck with her, progressing from big sloppy messes of grammatical errors within the pages of a Winx Club diary to well-thought out, multiple chapter stories involving complicated issues in a soft, romantic looking diary. She wondered if anyone would ever find her diaries now, hidden as they were beneath the loose floorboard under her bed.

               When she reached the top of the stairs, she was met by a procession of departing maids. Entering the room, she saw a steaming hip bath waiting for her, only partially hid by the screen. Brownen was shaking out the blue dress from earlier, laying it out on the made bed. She turned, noticing Alienore’s arrival, and hurried over to help her with her clothes.

               “Your Majesty, your bath is ready. We must hurry, though, because the scouts have reported that Princess Mithian’s party will be here within the hour.” The maidservant said, unlacing the last tie on the forest green tunic. Alienore moved behind the screen, arranging it to conceal her as she removed the tunic and the pants, laying them on top of the screen for Brownen to take.

               “Are their rooms prepared?” She asked as she entered the hot bath, sighing in pleasure as the hot water met her sore muscles and eased them.

               “Yes, my lady. All is in readiness.” Brownen replied.

               “Thank you, Brownen, for all your hard work.” Alienore said, recognizing the older girl’s dedication to her work. She was rinsing herself off now, and grabbing the big towel that hung over the screen, she exited from the bath. Stepping out from behind the screen, she was presented with all the trappings of a medieval gown. First was a white linen shift, with lace at the hem and neckline, which she immediately put on. Then came stockings and garters, a corset-like garment (thankfully loose enough to let her breathe, the fashion for small waist would not come by for at least another five hundred years) and then the gown itself. The gown was beautiful, made of a shiny satin that was smooth to the touch and rippled with each her movements. Its skirt was divided, showing a silver underskirt. Its neckline was round, with embroidered edge that was beautifully done by hand. The gown was completed by tight sleeves to the elbow, where they billowed out. They were long, their tip reaching almost all the way to the ground. The gown was completed with a belt, resting low on Alienore’s hips, made of interlinked links of hammered silver. It held a sapphire at its middle link, and then trailed down. This was a gown meant to impress, perfect for welcoming royalty. Its colors represented the house of Lyonesse itself, with the navy blue and silver.

               Brownen stepped back to observe her handiwork. “You look ready, my lady.” She said, nodding in approval. “Now, sit down and let me do your hair.” She said, indicating with a nod of her head the small vanity table sitting right by the screen. Alienore sat, taking up the small hand mirror. Its glass was different from the one she was used to. It was blurry, its workmanship poor. It had obviously been done by hand, rather than the accurate machines which had produced the mirrors back home. However, she could still distinguish her image. She had been curious to see if she looked different over here, and was both surprised and relived to find very few differences. Her face had retained its usual roundness, the small spattering of freckles and curved up mouth were still there. Her blue eyes remained untouched, profound and open windows to her soul. Her skin was several shades larger, due Alienore spending much more time in the sun than Eleanor. Her hair was also changed. It still retained its trademark hue, but it was much longer, reaching past her waist. It was also curled at the ends, that perfect natural curl that had always evaded Eleanor. Currently, Brownen was putting it up, creating a braid from the front part of her hair that looked almost like a crown. She tied the two ends of the braid at the back of Alienore’s head, and left the rest of it down, its color catching the light and resembling the sunset over the water. She opened a drawer, and grabbed a simple silver circlet, which she placed on Alienore’s forehead. Then, she backed away and nodded once, satisfied.

               “You are ready, my lady. I’ll go down and check on Princess Mithian’s progress. I will send someone up to report to you.” Brownen said, and with a small bow, turned and left the room.

               Alienore got up, and migrated towards the window. She had yet to explore her vantage viewpoint, having only taken a casual notice of them in her earlier scrutiny of the room. Standing behind the desk, she peered out the windows, parting their thick velvet curtain. The view below her took her breath away. Since her room was located on the highest tower of the castle, she could see all around the city and over the seaside wall. While the city itself was picturesque, and definitely medieval, what captured Alienore’s imagination was the seaside view. The stormy grey waters of the English sea, its waves breaking against the stark white cliffs on which the castle stood. Alienore recognized them as the cliffs of Dover from her first and only visit of England, but was struck by their sheer beauty. It was different seeing them now, without the myriad of boats, cars, and people that were always milling about in her time. Now, they were untamed, untouched by the power of men, what they called science. They were a beacon to guide ships home, their stark white visible from a distance as the grey waters hit them and retreated, stuck in an unbreakable cycle. Now, they were calling Alienore home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the first chapter from Alienore's perspective! Please tell what you think and how you like the story!


	13. A Familiar Destiny

_“No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny.”_

               “But I’m serious! If anyone wants to go and kill him, they can go ahead. In fact, I’ll give them a hand!” Merlin said, completely serious. It was the night of his second day in Camelot, and it had already been a trip. Within five minutes of entering the city, with its towering white castle and clean streets, he had accidentally revealed his magic, the only thing he was supposed to not do. Fortunately, the old physician, Gaius, had been the only one present, and he had accepted Merlin’s magic. Gaius had, however, scolded him from using it in public, and Merlin had tried after that to make a good impression on the kindly physician. He had walked carefully in the cluttered room, aware that his innate clumsiness could be dangerous in a place filled to the ceiling with medicinal potions and herbs. So far, he had avoided touching any of them, and he hoped to keep it that way. Not that it would really matter, since he had gotten arrested on his very first errand. He winced, imagining the angry letter he would get from his mother once she would learn about it. It wasn’t as bad as saying it out aloud made it seem, since Merlin hadn’t stolen or killed. Instead, he had stumbled on a stuck-up brat who had been mistreating a servant half his size and scared witless. Merlin, feeling sorry for the poor boy, having been picked on in Ealdor due to his slight frame, stepped in. Unfortunately for him, he happened upon the Prince of Prats, Prince Arthur of Camelot, which had resulted in his first night being spent in the dungeons of Camelot. Of course, had Merlin wanted to, he could have easily escaped using his magic, but he did not want to break anymore rules than he already had. Actually, looking back, he probably could have escaped without the use of his magic, since the two guards on duty were passed out drunk before moonrise. The granary in Ealdor, guarded by a small, but fierce dog, was better guarded than the dungeons of the great city!

               Fortunately for Merlin, Gaius had been able to pull some strings and get Merlin out of jail the next morning, but not without a price. Merlin had to spend the morning in the stocks, an experience that he’d rather not repeat. At least one good thing came out of his act of kindness. While he was being pelted by rotten tomatoes and other produce he did not wish to closely identify, a shy maidservant had come up to praise him. Guinevere- Gwen- was the second person in Camelot that Merlin truly liked, after Gaius. He hoped that they could become friends in the coming days and months. Yet, as she extended her hand and he took it, a weird feeling came over him. It was as if he and Gwen had already been friends in another life, as if they had already stood in these same spots. The voice in Merlin’s head, which had been quiet ever since that odd moment at the lake, started talking at a thousand miles per hour. The only things that Merlin really made out was his own name and Gwen’s, as if the voice was telling him all the adventures they would share. That was impossible, knowing the future, so Merlin returned to his conversation with Gwen. Since both of them were so shy, so easily embarrassed their first conversation ended up being awkward and stilted. Yet, by the end of it, Merlin knew he had a friend. Similarly, as Gaius tended his wounds, he knew that Gaius would become much more to him than a teacher. Whether the feeling was coming from the weird voice or just from instinct, Merlin trusted it. He could already sense Gaius’s growing affection from the careful way he tended his wounds, despite his harsh scolding, and he knew not only that he looked up to the older man, but that he also wanted to make him proud.

               One person in Camelot he definitely knew he would not be making friends with was Prince Arthur. After Merlin’s release from the stocks, he had been returning from an errand and walking through the marketplace, when he met the Prince and his two lackeys swaggering around. Doing his best to ignore them, he walked past them, but the Prince taunted him back. Merlin couldn’t help responding, which resulted in another fight. Yet, as the two men circled each other and taunted one another with words, Merlin heard the whisper of a thousand other similar conversation, half jesting, half serious, in his mind. As Arthur came at Merlin with a mace, he used his magic to diverted, saving his own life. Merlin held his breath, waiting to see if Arthur caught it, but the blond man gave no sign of anything unusual. A couple minutes later, it was over, and Merlin prepared for his timely return to the stocks. At least, he thought, the townspeople will have exhausted the majority of their produce this morning. But the prince surprised him.

               As the two guards were picking Merlin up, no doubt to drag him away, Arthur held his hand up. “Wait. Let him go. He may be an idiot, but he’s a brave one.” He said. Immediately, the two knights let go of Merlin, backing away. But Arthur wasn’t done talking. Turning towards Merlin, he looked at him, scanning his eyes. His face showed none of the scorn and arrogance Merlin had come to expect of him, but looked pensive. “There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Arthur said, but unwilling to dwell on it, he walked away, leaving Merlin to make his way back with Gaius. As Gaius was berating him on the way up to his chambers, Merlin listened only with half a mind. The rest was trying to figure out what the voice had meant. _The prat never did figure it out_ , it had cryptically said after Arthur was done talking. The voice had not sounded bitter or angry. No, if Merlin had to describe the way the voice was talking of Arthur, he would have said that it was speaking of him rather fondly, despite the insult. Was it possible the voice, one he was 90% percent sure belonged to some form of himself, was actually friends with Arthur?

               While during the last two days Merlin had had more excitement than in the last eighteen years. So he had figured that the rest of his stay in Camelot would be dull, maybe even boring. Once again he was proven wrong as an insistent voice called his name, waking him from his sleep. It was a different voice than the one that had been plaguing him since that day at the lake, older, deeper, and almost more savage. If Merlin had been a normal person, he would have thought himself crazy with all these voices in his head. Instead, he knew that the world was a much different place than what it looked to the naked eye, so while they were a nuisance, he knew that they had a purpose. As he followed the voice into the dungeons, deeper still, until he was deep beneath the castle itself, he felt the _other_ voice stirring in recognition. Ever since he had gotten to Camelot, that voice seemed to recognize places and people, and offer cryptic pieces of advice. Like, this morning, it had spared him an awkward encounter with the Lady Helen by having him take a servant corridor, sparing him another trip to the dungeons.

               That was how Merlin had found himself facing a giant dragon, buried deep beneath Camelot, with a penchant for cryptic remarks about destiny and belittling Merlin. The other voice was laughing at each of the dragon’s remarks, finding them hilarious. But this Merlin couldn’t believe that this overgrown lizard was telling him that Arthur, the one who had tried to kill him in the marketplace, was his destiny. Moreover, he was destined to help the arrogant prat become the greatest king of Albion. Clearly, the lack of fresh air had gotten to the dragon.

               “None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it.” The dragon said, laughing at the young sorcerer. The voice in Merlin’s head shook his head, amused as well. The young sorcerer, getting frustrated, was thinking of just leaving them to their amusement and marching out, but he wanted to see if there was a tiny chance that the dragon was wrong. After all, he possibly could not be serious.

               “No. No way. No. No. There must be another Arthur, because this one’s an idiot.”

               If it was possible for dragons to smile, this one was smiling right now. “Perhaps it’s your destiny to change that.”

               With that, the dragon opened his great wings, and with a rush of air, flew off. “Wait! Wait! Wait, stop! No, I- I need to know more!” He called after him, but only heard the echo of a chuckle in response. _Good to know that you’re still as cryptic as ever, old friend_ the voice said, talking about the dragon. Merlin wondered if he could ask the voice in his head for help, but he doubted he would gain an answer. That was not the way of magic. With a sigh, he turned and started walking out of the cave. He would figure out his destiny as it came, and meanwhile hope that the dragon had been wrong. Deep inside, Merlin already knew that the dragon had made no mistake. That too was not the way of magic. All Merlin knew is that he had indeed his work cut out for him.

               _You know, he is not that bad_ the voice said, surprising him. He had thought it was done speaking. He turned around, surveying the cave. Maybe the source of the voice was down here as well. He moved the torch back and forth, but saw nothing. That would have been too fortunate of a coincidence. Instead, Merlin wondered if he could try responding. He projected a thought towards the voice, in the recess of his mind where he had heard it.

               _Who isn’t that bad?_ Merlin asked, hoping for an answer.

               _Arthur. Your destiny_. The voice replied, surprising Merlin. He had not been expecting an answer, and this felt weird, having a conversation solely within his head. Thank God no one could see him down here.

               _How would you know? Why are you even speaking to me?_ Merlin asked.

               _Trust me, if anyone knows Arthur it’s me_ the voice said, a touch of humor in its dry tone.

               But that doesn’t explain who you are, nor what you want from me

               _I cannot tell you who I am because you already know_. The voice said, seriousness evident in its tone this time. _But I am here to help you_

               Merlin knew it was probably a bad idea to trust a voice that had suddenly appeared in his mind, but in that moment he did not doubt its earnestness. He tried to ask more questions, but just like the dragon, the voice would answer no more tonight.

The next day, Merlin attended the feast in honor of the Lady Helen with Gaius. It was an incredible bore, old men giving long winded speech about ‘a momentous occasion’ and so on so forth. Merlin, not being of noble heritage, could not join the small group of knights that surrounded Arthur, nor did he want to. Unfortunately, that left him pretty much on his own.

               “She looks great, doesn’t she?” Gwen said, coming up behind him. Merlin turned, smiling at her. Maybe this evening wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

               “Yeah.” He said, glancing over at the Lady Morgana. She did look really pretty, but it was as if her beauty was being seen through a layer of ice. Her green eyes screamed that coldness, something that set Merlin’s nerves on edge.

               “Some people are just born to be queen.” Gwen said with a small sigh, oblivious to Merlin’s inner dilemma from his conversation with the Dragon last night.

               “NO!” he said, maybe a little too harshly. Fortunately, Gwen didn’t seem to notice.

               “I hope so. One day. Not that I’d want to be her. Who’d want to marry Arthur?” She said light-heartedly, screwing up her nose at Arthur’s name. _Didn’t stop you before, old friend_ the voice said, chuckling. _I had forgotten what a sweetheart Gwen was in her early days_ , it went on. Merlin tuned it out, teasing Gwen lightly until it was time for everyone to sit down. He would figure out the meaning behind its cryptic message later.

               To Merlin’s surprise, he did not have to wait long for his so called destiny to manifest itself. During Lady Helen’s song, he used his magic to save Arthur’s life, slowing down a knife enough for Merlin to knock Arthur down. Uther, grateful that the scrawny boy had saved his son’s life, announced that Merlin would get a reward. Merlin, a dark red staining his cheeks, turned to face the king, excited to hear about his reward. Maybe he would gain a boon, or money that he could use for his mother, or…      

               “You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household.” Uther said. A sudden idea came to him, and a flash of glee crossed his face as he killed two birds with one stone. “You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.”

               “Father!” Arthur exclaimed indignantly from somewhere behind him. Merlin, somewhat dazed, was in complete agreement for once. Not only would he actually have to see the prat every day, but he was actually going to be ordered about by him. _And_ he still had his duties as Gaius’ apprentice! He scanned the faces of the room, hoping to see smiles telling him that it was all a joke, but to no use. Everyone was clapping, apparently thinking that a great honor had been bestowed upon Merlin. He was tempted to snort, clearly they had not spent any time in Arthur’s vicinity. Gwen was clapping as well from her position on the side of the hall, but her smile was full of pity for Merlin’s task. At least she knew that what Uther had given Merlin was not a reward, it was a punishment. Gaius was clapping as well, a small bit of pride in his smile. As he made eye contact with Merlin, the old man gave a not-so subtle wink, indicating that he knew perfectly well how Merlin had saved Arthur’s life. Then, with a barely repressed sigh, Merlin turned his head to glance at Arthur. The Prince was actually pouting- pouting! - and at that same moment, turned his eyes to glance at Merlin. The two had a moment of awkward eye contact, then both whipped their heads around, refusing to acknowledge the other.

               As Merlin got off the royal dais in time to see Uther’s and Arthur’s retreating backs. This is going to be fun, he thought, silently preparing himself for the next day. He wondered how long he would last until Arthur would fire him. Maybe not even a week. They were already off to a great start, after all.

               _You don’t know the half of it_ , the voice gleefully said, almost as if it had been waiting for this development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for another late update... life keeps getting in the way! I'll update again in a few minutes :)


	14. Entrateining Royalty

_“You better go. Your destiny is calling.”_

               Brownen’s return was what snapped Alienore out of it of her reverie. She had been preoccupied, watching the waves break on the cliffs, the sea as troubled as her own thoughts. The time had done her good though, helping her sort her feelings about her current situation. She had come up with a course of action for the next couple days, starting with her encounter with Princess Mithian. Mostly, she was worried about whether her memories of her previous friendship with Mithian would resurface, as they had with both Brownen and Elaine, and whether those memories would come with a manual on how to handle visiting royalty. The only thing she hoped was that she did not embarrass herself with some social gaffe that would result in diplomatic problems for Lyonesse. She crossed her fingers as she turned around to face Bronwen.

               “My lady, Princess Mithian has entered the town. Do you want to welcome her at the drawbridge or at the entrance of the Great Hall?” Bronwen asked as she closed the door behind Alienore.

               “I’ll welcome Mithian and my brother at the entrance to the Great Hall. Are my sister and the Ladies of the Court ready?” Alienore asked as she traveled down the twisting spiral staircase. Apparently, railings were optional in medieval times, and she was having a hard time keeping herself upright. Her dress did not help, trailing behind her in a swish of cool satin. In the end, she settled for trailing her hand on the wall for whatever small purchase she could gain there and taking the stairs very carefully.

               “Yes, my lady. They await you in the Great Hall.” Brownen replied, trailing behind her mistress.

               “And the Knights? Have they assembled?” Alienore asked, opening the door to outside corridor.

               “Indeed. They too await your pleasure in the Great Hall.”

               “Very well. Was there anything else, Brownen?” Alienore asked. The castle still seemed like a maze to her brain, but she did recognize this corridor, having walked in with Elaine earlier. Fortunately for her, her feet remembered the way to the Great Hall, even if her brain did not, so she made it without having to ask Brownen for directions.

               “Actually, yes, my lady. A letter from your father came in this morning.” Brownen said as they were approaching the doors that led behind the throne in the Great Hall. Only a select few members of the royal family could walk through those, and Brownen wanted to let her mistress know now, before she had to deal with the rush of events that came with hosting royalty. She had hesitated earlier, knowing how upset her young mistress became every time she heard news of her father’s worsening condition. She knew how heavily the burden of queenship rested on her slight young shoulders, and also knew how much she loved her father. That had been the reason of her hesitation in not telling her earlier, not wanting to spoil her day. Now, Alienore needed to know in case Brownen was not around to tell her later, if she was busy tending to the guests.

               Alienore turned around sharply. While _this_ Alienore had never met her father, King Edric of Lyonesse, but the old Alienore had, and loved him fiercely. Her emotion flashed across Alienore’s face, breaking the difficulty won calm that had been there not a moment before. Sadness, anger, grief, love were written there for anyone to see. Then, Alienore gathered her composure and turned an icy stare towards her maidservant. “How come you did not tell me of this earlier, Brownen?”

               “I- I am sorry, Your Highness. I did not want to spoil your day, since I know how much news of your father upsets you.” Brownen said, bobbing a curtsy.

               Alienore realized that the maidservant had only meant well, and her harsh tone had been unnecessary. She had just been overwhelmed by the rush of emotions for a man she had never met. Giving a short nod, she gentle her face, and said, “Very well, Brownen. Next time, I woulBrod like to be informed as soon as news of my father arrives.”

               “Yes, my lady.”

               Brownen gave another small curtsy and turned around to leave. Calling her back, Alienore said: “And, Brownen, I’m sorry for my curt tone earlier.”

               “No need to apologize my lady, I know how much your father means to you.” Brownen replied, surprised at the apology. None of her other charges had ever apologized after using a sharp tone with her, be it warranted or not. But then, there was nothing usual about Lady Alienore. She had a natural quality that made her approachable and relatable even to a low born commoner, yet she still had the bearing and graciousness of a queen.

               Watching Brownen’s retreating back, Alienore took a minute to smooth down her dress and face the masses. This is it, she thought, her first go at being a princess. God, please don’t let me mess it up. Unable to stall any further, she gave a nod to the silent guard and blue and silver livery, who hoped the door and stepped in ahead of her.

               She heard his voice inside, announcing her entrance. “The Princess Regent of Lyonesse, Alienore!” The murmured voices fell silent, awaiting her entrance. Here we go, she said, taking her first hesitant step. Then, as if another person took over her body, years of training kicked in. She held her head up higher, her back straighter, and her steps confident, every inch the royal Princess. She walked in the room, and her breath was almost knocked out of her. It was an amazing work of art, the 30 foot room, with its gilded windows and magnificent tapestries. This was the glory of Lyonesse, the glory of her kingdom. Outwardly, she gave no sign of her marvel at the room. She kept her face blank, hiding her emotions behind a mask. She walked on, pass the two magnificent thrones at the back of the room, past the less elaborate chair that served as her throne during her time as Regent, past the second step where Elaine stood, and walked in the path that had been hastily cleared by the members of the court. They slowly, silently filed behind her, by order of rank, the Knights at her right, the court at her left. Only when she reached the Great Doors that led to the outside steps did she stop and turn to the court, her hands clasped tightly in front of her in order to stop them from shaking.

               “Thank you for assembling so quickly, Knights and Ladies of the Court. I have just been informed that Princess Mithian of Nemeth will be joining us for a visit. “Alienore said, and then walked out, descending the steps. Surprisingly for such a large group of people, they managed to assemble in relative silence. It was obvious they had had much practice doing this, and as soon as she thought this, a series of images started flashing behind her eyes. Of a younger version of herself, standing at her father’s right as he greeted a parade of kings and queens, ladies and knights, sorceress and warlocks. Of herself, standing alone on the same steps, doing the same thing. Only, she wasn’t exactly alone. She twisted her head slightly to see Elaine standing only a step or two behind her, silently supporting. Alienore gave her a smile, which her sister quickly returned, but Alienore’s attention was already on the approaching riders, which had just crossed the drawbridge. At the head, she saw a familiar sandy haired boy, wearing the blue cloak of Lyonesse. Graham, her brother, was younger than her only by a year. In any other kingdom in Albion, he would probably have been the first in line for the throne, in front of Alienore, but not in Lyonesse. In Lyonesse, the oldest child of the current king, whether a boy or a girl, would be the heir. This was due to the founder of Lyonesse, a Viking shield maiden by the name of Olga, who stepping on the tall cliffs, had claimed all the land she could see. She built the first castle, fortified the citadel, and then passed it to her daughter, Lyonene, for whom the kingdom was named. Olga left behind three principles for the kingdom she founded, inscribed on a stone that now hung above the mantel in the Great Hall. One of those was that a girl, if born first, would be first in line for the throne, not the oldest male. At first, many had scoffed at having a Queen, but Lyonesse went through its golden periods when a Queen was at the helm. Some whispered that Olga had been a sorceress, enchanting the land to prosper only when a female descendant was on the throne. Whatever the cause, over the centuries, the people of Lyonesse had started hoping for a Queen rather than a King. That was why the people were so happy whenever they caught a glimpse of Alienore, because she was the first Crown Princess in more than a century. It was a heavy responsibility that fell on her shoulders, which was why both Graham and Elaine did their best to help their sister in whatever capacity they could.

               Behind Graham rode two knights, bearing the green and white banners of Nemeth. The group was rounded out by two further knights, placed as rear guards, and Mithian herself. Alienore glimpsed dark hair, perfect white complexion, and dark eyes that made her think of the Snow White fairy tale. _This_ was what a princess should look like was her first thought, not a plain someone like her. And yet, as Mithian and Graham smiled at her as they rode into the courtyard, she was hit by the memories like a battering ram. They had been partners in crime, the three of them, when they had been younger. Days of playing hide and seek, both in the stately castle of Lyonesse and an unfamiliar one- she assumed it was Nemeth’s- as well as climbing trees, playing with wooden swords, frolicking at a pond, learning to ride horses. They had had a good childhood, despite the burdens of being royals. Maybe that was the reason why Mithian and Alienore had become such good friends, they both understood the burdens and pressures of being next in line to the throne. Now, as both were growing up, the wildness of their childhood days was leaving them. Mithian was no longer the wild girl that had dared Alienore and Graham to sneak out, no longer the girl who had casually borrowed bows from the royal armory and taught herself and two siblings from Lyonesse how to use them. Graham was often away with the knights, training or checking on the kingdom’s welfare. And Alienore, well Alienore had had to grow up faster than any of them. The oldest of the threesome (she was older than Mithian by three months), she had had to step in the shoes of her father, to become in fact Queen, and it had taken its toll. She could never go back to the carefree girl that would sneak up to the attic with Mithian and try on the gowns of long gone queens, nor the girl that led them on an expedition to the crypts, and not even the girl that had been able to recklessly risk her life on a horse far too big for her. None of them could go back, not now, but neither were they ready to become full adults.

               All those emotions rushed to Alienore, causing her smile to falter. If before she had thought that Alienore’s life had been easier than her old one, simpler in a way, she had just discovered that that wasn’t the case. Despite her obvious confidence, her abilities, her sheer courage, she still had insecurities, just like Eleanor, just like any other fifteen year old girl. It helped this Alienore, the modern twentieth first century one, be able to understand and, in a flash, become the true inhabitant of this body.

               Somehow, Mithian and Graham managed to reach Alienore at the same time. Both enveloped her in a crushing hug, which she enthusiastically returned. Just like when she had first met Elaine, she felt an immediate affinity for these two strangers and yet not strangers. Both of them were babbling in her ears, talking over one another so that Alienore couldn’t understand anything.

               With a laugh, she interrupted their mindless babbling. “I can’t understand either of you if you talk one another!” She mock-whispered.

               “I’m sorry! It’s just so good to see you! You look amazing!” Mithian said, wearing a somewhat sheepish grin. Graham, wearing a nearly identical one, just shrugged and lifted an eyebrow, making the two girls laugh. Alienore took a moment to absorb the pure happiness of the moment, of being reunited with friends. Even though she had never met them, she had the old Alienore’s memories, and she had liked Mithian and Graham on sight, so yes, they were friends. Then, she stepped back to do her duty as Princess Regent.

               Clearing her throat and taking a step back, she said, “Princess Mithian of Nemeth, Lyonesse welcomes you. It is an honor to receive a visit from such an old and important ally.” Alienore said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Graham move over to greet Elaine, and then join the ranks of knights. He too had a duty to perform.

               Mithian, her face blank except for a polite smile, replied, “I am honored by such praise, Princess Alienore. It is an honor to visit Lyonesse once again.”

               With the formalities concluded, the court broke off, people splitting up and talking about the feast that was sure to happen later that day. In twos and threes, the returned back inside. Graham, an apologetic smile, followed the knights in, but signaled to Alienore that he would join her and Mithian later. Elaine too was off with her tutors. Since she was still young, she had another year of schooling to complete before she was considered a woman and able to join the Ladies of the Court in the solar and at feasts. With everyone gone, only Mithian and Alienore were left. The two girls looked at each other, and then burst out laughing.

               “You would think we had the plague in seeing how quickly everyone left!” Alienore said, hugging her friend once again. Mithian, laughing too hard for speech, just returned the hug. They stood there, in the courtyard, until their laughter died down. Then, both girls stepped back to inspect the changes in the other during their time apart. It had been three months, ever since the spring celebration in Nemeth, since the two friends had seen one another.

               “Look at you, Alienore!” Mithian said, awed. Her friend had changed in their time apart. It wasn’t exactly a physical change, although those were there too, but rather in how she carried herself. She stood taller, held her head higher, her back straighter. “You look like a Queen!”

               “And you! How is it possible that every time you grow taller and I grow shorter?” Alienore asked, noting their height difference, despite being the eldest herself.

               “I think you’re just shrinking, Ali.” Mithian said, smiling at Alienore and patting her head. Alienore gave a fake pout, but then threw back her head, laughing. Linking arms, the two girls followed the court inside, somewhat belatedly.

               They walked through the thick oak doors and into the entrance hall. Through the open doors of the Great Hall, they could see the court, mingling and chatting. But neither of them wanted to go inside, to sit and make polite conversation with pampered ladies. They would have to maintain the masks they had worn on the steps, pretend that this was nothing more than a polite visit between two future rulers. Instead, Mithian and Alienore wanted to be alone, go somewhere where they could just be the fifteen year old girls they were inside. With a look at each other, they quietly started making their way towards the stairs, hoping not to be stopped by anyone inside the Hall. They were helped by Elaine, who noting their intention, loudly said, “Come this way, Alienore, Princess Mithian, I shall show you my schoolroom.” With a wink in their direction, she ran in the opposite direction to catch up with her tutors, followed by a rush of ladies from inside the Great Hall. With a laugh, Alienore and Mithian ran up the stairs, not stopping until they found themselves atop the tower that housed Alienore’s room, panting and out of breath.

               They looked at each other, realizing they were free for the next couple hours, free from royal duties and obligations. Then, laughing once more, they entered the room. Alienore jumped on the bed, and Mithian pulled over a chair and slouched in it.

               “Princess Mithian!” Alienore said, mock stern, “is that the proper way for a future queen to sit?”

               “Oh shove it!” Mithian said, laughing at her friend’s imitation of the tone of one of her old governesses. “Is that the way a Princess Regent is supposed to behave when entertaining royalty? You might alienate an important ally…” Mithian said, her eyes twinkling.

               “Heh, I’ll take that chance… “Alienore replied, glad that she could let loose for a while, away from the stuffiness of the court, at least until luncheon.

               The two girls spent the morning talking, both of the present and the past. The one thing they stayed far away was their future, because they wanted some time away from responsibilities, from seriousness, from the royal life. But, after Brownen cleared away the remnants of the lunch she had so thoughtfully brought up, it was time to face the future. Neither of them hesitated, it was not in the nature of either of them to waste time. You could hide from your fate for only so long, after all.

               “How’s your dad, Ali? Really?” Mithian asked, her voice soft.

               “He- He’s not good, Mi.” Alienore said, clutching a pillow. “The doctors said that he’s losing his memory, that some days he is the king he’s always been, and others he cannot recognize his most trusted knights. Th-th-they said that there’s no cure.” Alienore said, her voice breaking.

               “Oh Ali, I’m so sorry!” Mithian said, getting up to envelop her friend in a hug.

               Alienore felt a couple of tears slide off her face, leaving wet marks down her cheeks, but she hastily wiped them away. She had never been a big crier, and hated the feeling of helplessness that came over her each time she cried. As she told Mithian of her father’s illness, what she would consider to be Alzheimer’s, it was not the face of the grizzled warrior that was King Edric that she saw. No, she saw her own father, safely back home in the States, and that was what had caused her grief. In the end, both King Edric and Stephen Hayden were her father, and she loved them both. That was the reason behind the difficulty in speaking of it, even to Mithian.

               “Is there anything at all they can do?” Mithian asked, her heart breaking for the girl who had been like a sister, no more than a sister to her growing up.

               “They can keep him stable and make sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt himself. But, there is no way that he’ll ever be able to reassume the throne.” Alienore replied, her desperation and fear at the enormity of the task before her clear in her troubled eyes. “The doctors said all we have to hope now is that he’ll make it past my eighteenth birthday, to spare the kingdom a regency, so that it doesn’t look weak to the other kingdoms. My father is essentially slowly dying and all they care about is that the kingdom does not look weak?” Alienore asked, her earlier rage coming to the forefront once more.

               “The curse of being king; your death is a lot more than a personal matter, it becomes a state matter. “ Mithian said, comfortingly.

               “Couldn’t they wait until he is dead? The doctors said that he could live for two, maybe three years barring any incidents.” Alienore said.

               “The council is just looking out for you, Ali. Between you, me, Lady Vivian of Mercia, and Princess Elena of Gawant, Albion is heading into an age of Queens. Yet, the warrior Kings that ruled before us still hold on, and you, as the first of us to take the throne, and at such a young age, you are a prime bait for the likes of Uther, Cenred, Caerleon, or Odin. That is why the want to make sure you don’t have a Regent yourself, so you have time to consolidate your power and lead Lyonesse like the great Queen I know you’ll be.” Mithian said, her wisdom shining through.

               “I guess so, Mi. It’s just the council, they look down at me as if I’m still a babe in swaddling clothes. I mean, I know I’m young to them, but I’m not entirely incompetent; I was trained since birth for this role, after all.” Alienore said, wiping the last errant tears out of her eyes and straightening up.

               “You should the bunch of old farts I will have to deal with!” Mithian said, causing both girls to break out in giggles.

               They fell silent after that, each absorbed in their own thoughts. It was a companionable silence, one born of knowing each and being totally comfortable with one another. Alienore got up to pace, a habit of hers when thinking too hard, while Mithian stood in front of the mirror and fixed her travel worn appearance.

               “I just had a brilliant, slightly reckless, but totally genius idea!” Alienore said loudly, startling the other girl.

               “Ali, you almost had me stick myself with a pin!” Mithian said, staring at the other girl through the mirror, holding up the offending hair pin. “What is it?”

               Alienore’s idea had actually come to her that morning, as she was making her to do list. But, as Mithian and she had been talking, she had formed a plan to put in action, and now was the perfect moment to enlist Mithian as an accomplice, just like when they were younger. “You know how earlier you were saying that as Queens we would be prime bait for warrior kings, because we didn’t know how to fight?”

               “Yes…” Mithian said, turning around to face Alienore. Her voice held a hint of caution in it. As children, it had always been Alienore who had come up with most reckless, ill-advised plans, she had been the one who had revised them so they would not kill themselves, and then together they had forced Graham to come along and provide the means. She smiled as she wondered how they had come through so many ill-advised things with barely a scrape or a bruise. They had been hellions growing up, every nurse’s and later governess’s nightmare.

               “Well, what if we did know how to fight?” Alienore said, her smile widening in excitement.

               “But Alienore, we don’t know how to fight! And don’t tell me that shooting a bow counts, no matter how good you are with one it won’t do you any good in the middle of a crowded battlefield!”

               “We can learn how to fight, how to wield a sword and a mace, how to joust and duel! We already have half the work done, since both of us are excellent horsewomen and already have some of the arm muscles required from archery!” Alienore said, her enthusiasm now clearly audible in her voice.

               “Ali, you’ve had a lot of hare-brained schemes and reckless plans in the time I’ve known you, but I’m pretty sure this surpasses all!” Mithian said, unable to believe that her friend was actually serious.

               “Please, Mi! It will end up being a skill that we find useful, I just know it!” Alienore said, her lips turned down in what her twentieth first century mom had called her kicked puppy look. It had never failed to thaw people, and Mithian apparently was no exception.

               “Don’t give me that look, Ali!” Mithian said. Seeing the disappointment in her friend’s face, she sighed and tried one last appeal to the logical, rational side of her. “We are girls, Ali, no knight is ever going to want to train us!”

               Seeing that her friend was about to cave, Alienore smiled once more. “No knight. What about a knight-in-training?” She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

               Mithian shook her head at her incorrigible friend, but couldn’t hide the smile that came to her face. Here was another adventure the three of them would undertake, together. “Fine. Have it your way. But Graham won’t be happy at all!” Mithian said.

               She was soon proved right. The two girls, having gone to the armory in order to find Alienore’s brother, were unsurprised at Graham’s initial refusal. “No. No. Absolutely not! Are you crazy, Ali? Being a knight is not a game! And it’s definitely not a place for two princesses!” Graham said as soon as they were alone in the armory, the other knights leaving to give the three royals their space.

               “I know it’s not a game, silly! I really do want to learn, I want to be able to defend Lyonesse if I have to!” Alienore said, indignant that he would think it was a game. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and Graham had no right to treat her so. Especially since he was her little brother! She had expected that he would pull out the over-protective brother card, but not that he would flat out refuse her.

               “You have me and an army of knights to protect the kingdom if the need arises, Ali. I’m sure a girl with a sword won’t do the difference!” Graham said.

               “Yes it will! I’m going to be the Queen, and I will damn well ride at the head of my army if the need arises, not leave the serious war business to a bunch of hot shot knights!” Alienore said, shouting upwards at her much taller brother. Mithian had to stifle a laugh at the picture. Alienore, her hands on her hips was craning her head backward in order to look at Graham, who was clenching his fists in return. Their eyes, so alike, held the same streak of stubbornness that she had grown to know and love.

               “She’s right, Graham. It is well within her rights as Queen. Plus, you know she will do it whether or not you train her, so you might save us all some cuts and bruises, as well as a drawn out argument, and just given now.” Mithian said, slipping effortlessly into her role as referee between the two siblings.

               Graham turned to face Mithian, betrayal written on his face. “You too, Mithian? I thought you were supposed to be the voice of reason!”

               Mithian only smiled and gave a small shrug, but couldn’t hide the small blush staining her cheeks. Alienore noticing, raised her eyebrows in silent question, but Mithian shook her head, non-verbally saying she’ll explain later. With a knowing grin, Alienore turned back to face Graham, who had been quietly muttering about this idea of theirs, with the words ‘stubborn women’ and ‘God help me’ featuring pretty heavily.

               “So you’ll do it, brother dearest?” Alienore said, being extra nice. She knew, and Graham did too, that he didn’t really have a choice. Alienore always got her way, whether through sheer stubbornness, or by outwitting him she always managed to drag him into whatever mischief she was up to.

               “Did I ever really have a choice?” Graham asked with a heavy sight.

               “No, not really, but you could have drawn out this for much longer.” Alienore said, going up to hug her brother. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear, “You’re the best, Graham. I’m glad you’re back.”

               Returning the hug from his much shorter sister, Graham whispered back, “I love you too, Ali. You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

               Mithian saw the picture the two made, with Graham’s sandy head bent down to Alienore’s darker honey hued one. Looking at them, you wouldn’t say they were siblings, yet they had the exact same temperaments, causing them to bicker constantly when they were younger. Yet, either one of them would lay down their lives for the other, and for Mithian herself.

               Breaking the hug, Alienore smiled up at Graham. Then, her enthusiasm returning, she said, “So, when are we starting?” She couldn’t keep still, was almost jumping up and down, one of her worst habits when she was excited. It also never failed to make both Mithian and Graham smile, reminding them of their younger days.

               “Since you’ve already managed to corner me in the armory,” Graham said, his tone only slightly scolding, “let’s find some chainmail for you guys to wear and some swords you might actually be able to lift.”   

               Over the course of the next hours, Alienore learnt that learning how to defend herself, whether with a sword or another knight’s weapon, had a lot of elements involved. The hauberk, the garment that typically went below the chainmail, had to be positioned exactly right or the chainmail could cut into your skin. Then the chainmail itself, which weighted around twenty pounds, went on, followed by belts and pouches to store items, as well as a chest plate to provide further protection to vital organs. Then, the sword itself had to be a comfortable weight for the user, as well as being properly sharpened and balanced. Alienore’s head was swimming as Graham rattled off rules and techniques, battlefield etiquette and the proper care for a knight’s tools. She had wanted to listen, really, but she had thought that by now they’d be outside at least starting on how to handle their weapons. She wanted to be out and doing, not in here in the stuffy armory.

               “Graham, while I’m sure the proper care of a sword and its scabbard are going to save my life one day,” Alienore said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “I would like to at least begin to learn while it is still light outside?”

               Graham gave her a glare that he reserved only for the times when she used sarcasm on him. “Fine! Well, if you have a rusty sword one day, don’t blame me! Now, have you guys picked what weapon to use?”

               “A sword for me!” Alienore said, picking one up from the rack that had felt right earlier. She tested it for balance, staring down its hilt, and found it to have a good balance, even though it wasn’t perfect. “This one will do.” She said, receiving only a brief nod of approval from Graham. He had already known his sister would go for the sword, it was just in her character.

               “And you, Mithian?” Graham said, his voice gentling as he turned towards the quieter girl.

               “I don’t think a sword is exactly for me. I think I’ll try this out…” Mithian said, holding up a quarterstaff. A quarterstaff was a long shaft of wood, usually around 8 feet long, with a metal tip or spike at one or both ends, and in this case, a gilded grip in its center. It was more of a long distance weapon, a thing of grace and beauty, perfect for Mithian.

               “A wise choice, Mithian. Now if only my stubborn sister were as smart…” Graham said.

               “You’re just scared I’m going to be better at this than you are!” Alienore taunted as she led the way out of the armory, the sword swinging jauntily at her hip with each step. Shaking his head at his sister, Graham locked the armory behind him and led the way to the deserted practice field.

               It was already getting dark out, so by the time they were done with their first training, they had missed supper. Bone weary, both Alienore and Mithian trudged upstairs, with Graham’s gleeful promise of training tomorrow at sunrise. He had given them every opportunity to back out, to return to what he called proper lady things, but each smirking suggestion just helped make Alienore determined. Hugging Mithian goodnight, she went upstairs, hoping to find Brownen waiting for her. Lucky for her, the faithful maidservant was there, with some hot water to make her absolutions, a clean nightgown, and a light meal.

               “What happened to you, my lady?” Brownen said, concern at seeing her lady wearing chainmail instead of the pretty court dress she had gone down in. It had taken Alienore and Mithian ages to figure out how to remove their intricate gowns and don the heavy chainmail, but with a little bit of time – and a lot of help – they had finally managed.

               “I had an idea…. Just help me get this off, please?” Alienore asked.

               “Of course, my lady. Do I just unbuckle it?” Brownen asked, unsure on how to deal with the knight’s equipment.

               “I think so.” Alienore said, twisting to try and help the maidservant.

               “Well, what were you up to in chainmail like a knight?” Brownen asked as she finally unclasped the last buckle.

               “Just that; I’m going to learn how to defend myself.” Alienore said, carefully removing the chainmail so that none of her hair got caught in the links. Then, she proceeded to wash herself, and don the nightgown that Brownen had set on the bed. Sitting down at the table, she began to wolf down the food waiting for her. Training had given her such an appetite!

               “My lady, are you sure that is wise?” Brownen asked, concern for her mistress written all over her face as she tried to figure out what to do with the unfamiliar garments.

               “I’m going to have to lead Lyonesse’s armies if the need calls, aren’t I? No sense in being a martyr.” Alienore said.

               “Well then, my lady. I’ll go talk to one of the squires tomorrow morning and figure out how to handle this.” Brownen said, holding up the chainmail and hauberk.

               “Thank you, Brownen.” Alienore said. Then, suddenly remembering the question she had wanted to ask the maidservant that morning before Elaine burst in, she called the maidservant back.

               “Was there anything else, my lady?”

               “Yes, actually. Have you ever heard of a Merlin?” Alienore asked, hoping to see a flash of recognition on the maidservant’s face. Instead, it looked as if Brownen had drawn a blank.

               “No, my lady, the name does not ring a bell.”

               “You might have known him as the manservant of Prince Arthur of Camelot?” Alienore asked, hoping that would jog some memories.

               “I have never been to Camelot, my lady, and have only met Prince Arthur once. I had to tend to him since he had no manservant. I am sorry I cannot help you, but I could ask around the servants’ quarter if anyone has heard of him.” Brownen said.

               “Yes, that would be wonderful Brownen, thank you. You can go home now.” Alienore said, her eyes landing on the envelope with her name on it. It was her father’s elegant script, she immediately recognized. This was the letter Brownen had been speaking of earlier. Not hesitating, she tore it open, wanting to hear news of her father, good or bad.

               _My dear Alienore,_

_I write this during one of my more lucid spells. The doctor have been saying that they will happen less and less as the illness progresses, and I want to take advantage of each and every one of them. I was so glad to see you last time, even if I know my not recognizing you hurt you. I did know you, on some deeper level, but just could not recall the memories of our life together. Never doubt my love for you, dear child, for even my illness cannot take that away from me._

_I write to you not only as a father, but as a king. There is a secret that has held over Lyonesse for many years, one that could bring it down. My father passed it on to me on his deathbed, and now I must pass it on to you, lest I forget it. A sorceress, by the name of Grunhilda, has held a long grudge against our kingdom. She swore that she would have her vengeance the next time a queen ruled the land, and I fear she means you, my dear Alienore. If she did attack the kingdom, I want you to flee, take all the knights you can with you, and go. Travel to Camelot, where I have written to Uther of this matter. He will welcome you into his kingdom for as long as you need to gather forces in order to fight Grunhilda. He is your safest bet, since magic has long since been banned in Camelot. Promise me this, Alienore. You will flee, because only you can fight against the sorceress and win. There is a prophecy, which if you ask the Court Librarian, he will show you. But, remember the promise you have made me. Flee._

_I am so proud of you, my daughter. You have led the kingdom well in my absence, showing all the wisdom and grace as Queen I knew you would have. I leave the kingdom in capable hands, the best hands. All the love in the world,_

_Your father, King Edric of Lyonesse_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go... as always, let me know what you think!


	15. Old Routines

_“He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold”_

               Merlin had been in Camelot for a little over six weeks now, and was completely exhausted. In between helping Gaius as his apprentice, being Arthur’s manservant, studying magic at night, and going down to speak with the Dragon whenever he got too lonely (that was what Merlin had come up in order to explain the Dragon’s frequent calls in the middle of the night), Merlin barely had time to eat and sleep. Free time seemed like a dream to him, something that he had once enjoyed but will never have again. That was without mentioning the annoying voice in his head, which would wake up to make some sarcastic or cryptic comment and then conveniently shut down when he asked for more information.

               Yet, he didn’t hate his new life in Camelot. Actually, he was starting to really love it. For the first time, he had friends outside Will and his mom, had a purpose in his life, a way to control his magic, and Gaius, who was quickly becoming the father Merlin had never had. Having to keep his magic a secret on the pain of death hung over Merlin’s head, the parade of executions a constant reminder of what one small mistake would cost him, but most of the time, he was able to just ignore it. Besides Gaius, him and Gwen had become really close friends, just like he had predicted the first time he met her. Most days, they would take their lunch breaks together, laughing and talking of their pasts. Gwen was curious to know of Merlin’s childhood in Ealdor, of his many escapades, and his secret almost slipped out a couple times. Fortunately, he was able to cover the slip ups in the nick time, leaving innocent Gwen ignorant of his magic. Despite how much he trusted Gwen, and the feeling that he had that she would not judge him, he could not tell her. He had promised Gaius, but furthermore, it could endanger Gwen herself if it ever did come out. In return for stories of his younger days, Gwen told him of her own childhood. She had grown up alongside a knight’s children, her mother a maid in her house, and had her own escapades to tell. She told him of Elyan, her brother, and Leon, a knight now, her closest friends at the time, but also of her parents, how she had had to take up her current position after her mother’s death.

               “I’m so sorry, Gwen” Merlin had said, hesitantly hugging his friend.

               Hastily wiping her tears away, Gwen returned the hug. “It’s alright, it was a long time ago. Plus, I like my job. Morgana is the best- and only- girl friend I’ve ever had, and serving her is often more of boon than a chore.”

               Funnily enough, the voice in Merlin’s head had plenty to say about Gwen too. Merlin was starting to feel like he couldn’t walk by a bloody stone in Camelot without the voice giving its opinion on it, chuckling to itself, unwilling to share the joke with Merlin. It was starting to get on his nerves. One cryptic prophesier in his life was enough, thank you very much.

               No, the friend that surprised him the most was Arthur himself. Maybe it was still too early to call the bond between them a friendship, but it certainly wasn’t the outright animosity of their first meeting. No, Arthur had proven to be a much different person underneath the mask of ignorance and cockiness he wore every day. He had risked his own life to save Merlin’s when Merlin had drunk Nimueh’s poisoned goblet. Their insult filled banter had lost the edge it had during their first few meetings. Instead, a hint of playfulness and friendship could be found there. Merlin was starting to see- on very rare occasions- the king that Arthur had the potential to become. Arthur lacked a certain cruelty that his father had, replaced instead with an empathy for his people. He would be a just king, ruling with his heart rather than with his fist. Now, Merlin only had to make sure he got that far. He had thought it an easy job, with the amount of knights in Camelot, but boy, was he wrong! In the short time he had been there, he had already saved Arthur’s life four different times, twice against one of Nimueh’s schemes, and once with Valiant and Mary Collins. It was hard, accomplishing it all without revealing his magic, and with only Gaius infrequent praise for all his hard work. Arthur certainly wasn’t about to thank him, despite having some fine qualities, he was still a prat. And the Dragon, locked up beneath Camelot, only gave some rhyming advice before flying off chuckling to himself. The voice wasn’t more helpful, responding to his complaints with _You’re just at the beginning_ and some comment or opinion about whatever foe Merlin was facing. All in all, he had accepted his destiny, but did he wish it was easier!

               That morning, Merlin had been off picking mushrooms for Gaius after an already hectic morning trying to get Arthur out of bed and to the training field. Then, he had had to clean off the leech tank, his least favorite chore, before being sent on his way to gather mushrooms, without even a taste of the deliciously smelling rolls the cook had been baking. The night before, he had been called by the dragon, so he hadn’t been able to catch much sleep between trudging down to the cave and back to Gaius’s tower. That had probably been the reason for his sluggish reaction when the griffin attacked, and he probably would have been dead had it not been for the stranger who stepped in, wearing naught but a tunic and wielding a rusty sword.

               “It’s gone! You saved my life. I’m Merlin.” Merlin said, extending his hand forward.

               The stranger gave a weak smile, saying “Lancelot” and returning the handshake. _The noblest and bravest of them all, my old friend_ the voice said, none its usual laughter _. Quiet, you_ Merlin said, noticing Lancelot’s wound for the first time. He had to get the man back to Camelot and to Gaius, quickly, or else he would be the reason for his death. Putting Lancelot’s arm over his shoulder, Merlin started the long walk back to Camelot.

\-----------

_Two Days Later_

               _Are you sure this is wise?_ The voice asked.

               _Since when do you care? You’ve been running the Daily Commentary of Camelot for a while now, but you’ve never tried to play conscience_ Merlin shot back. He muttered the spell before the voice could interrupt, shutting the book before Geoffrey could see the copied the seal. It would be no help for Lancelot if he was caught copying seals in the library, now would he? Merlin was determined that he would this one thing for the man who had saved his life, for a man who was noble as any of the Lords of the Court. If he couldn’t use his magic for time such as these, would good did it really do? No, Merlin was determined, and nothing would stop him, not Gaius, the voice, or the dragon.

               He got up, getting another suspicious look from Geoffrey, and decided that it was probably wise to make his exit sooner rather than later. _You were always stubborn like a mule_ the voice said, resigned, _but I agree with why you’re doing this, even if I don’t approve of the methods_.

               _Gee, thanks, now go back to what you usually do, whatever that is_ Merlin said, turning the corner and going in search of Lancelot. Showing him the seal, he convinced the honorable knight to go along with the deception with only the slightest twinges of guilt. By the time anyone found out his white lie, Lancelot would have already proven himself as noble as any other knight and the lie forgotten, he figured. Taking Lancelot down to Gwen’s house, he got him outfitted as benefitted a knight, thankful for Gwen’s silence. He saw her awkwardness around the knight, the blush that stained her cheeks when Lancelot kissed her hand.

               _They would make a good match_ the voice said, echoing his own thoughts

               _Adding matchmaking to your resume, now?_ Merlin asked, privately agreeing. He resolved to make sure to throw them together more often. Gwen and Lancelot were perfect for each other, really. Both loyal and kind to a fault, they had had to face hardships due to their birth, and yet had come through stronger because of it. Yes, there was definitely possibility there, Merlin thought as he followed Lancelot out of Gwen’s homey house, with a smile and a thank you.

               A few days later, Merlin couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been. Lancelot’s lie had been discovered the day after his knighting, and now Uther was threatening to have him executed for breaking the First Code of the Knights of Camelot. And it was all Merlin’s fault. Sure, his intentions had been honorable, but he’d gone about it in all the wrong ways. He hated to admit it, but the voice had been right. At least Arthur had seen Lancelot’s true worth, and would try to intercede with Uther for him. If he failed, Merlin would have to find a way to rescue Lancelot. He would not let his friend- because that was what he’d become- die just because Merlin had used magic to help him.

               Of course, Merlin hadn’t counted on Lancelot’s own streak of stubbornness and honor. The fool, after being released by Arthur, had returned to fight the griffin, alone. Merlin, who had just been about to cast the spell, had no choice. It was either reveal his magic or watch Lancelot die. Without a thought, despite the many rules he was breaking, he cast the spell, causing Lancelot’s lance to glow a bright blue. Lancelot, at first startled, grasped the meaning, and shifting his grip, continued his charge. Merlin and he only shared a meaningful look before Arthur burst on the scene, but it was enough for Merlin. Lancelot knew.

               He didn’t get to speak with Lancelot until they stood outside the throne room, waiting for Arthur to explain the circumstances to his father. Of course, Lancelot was going to be a knight now, he had proven himself to have a noble heart, if not a noble heritage. Furthermore, he had proven himself a knight of Camelot in the right way, not using magic. Merlin had learned that lesson, that magic was not meant to be used for deceit and personal gain, at almost too high of a cost. Now, he only had to deal with the fall out.

               He voiced his thoughts on Lancelot’s knighthood aloud, thinking that the knight would agree with him. In the time Lancelot had spent in Camelot, he had become a good friend to Merlin, a true friend, like Gwen or Arthur. It was funny, Merlin had been just a farm boy a few weeks ago, now he was friends with princes and knights.

               Surprising Merlin, Lancelot shook his head, smiling at his friend. “I didn’t kill the griffin.” He said, shifting away from the guards. “You did.”

               “That’s ridiculous.” Merlin said, sputtering, He had hoped that he could just shrug off what Lancelot had seen, but the determined, slightly amused gleam in his eyes told him it wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought. He could not endanger another person with his secret, he would not.

               “Bregdan anweald...I heard you. I saw you.” Lancelot said. Then, observing the panicked look in Merlin’s eyes, he reassured him: “: Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But I cannot take the credit for what I did not do. There'll be no more lies, no more deceit.”

               In that moment, Merlin understood what the voice had been trying to tell him on his first meeting with Lancelot. He was the noblest and bravest of them all, a good soul through and through. One day, he would make a fine knight. But that day was not yet come, something both of them realized. That was the reason that Merlin did not try to stop him as he went inside to renounce his knighthood. Perhaps when Arthur is king, things will be different, was what he told himself. When Arthur was king, his destiny would be completed, and people of magic would be free, and maybe commoners would become knights. Perhaps then, Lancelot and Gwen would be able to take their relationship further. There were too much perhaps in there to ease Merlin’s troubled mind, so he turned to Gaius’ counsel as he watched Lancelot ride out of Camelot’s gates.

               “Perhaps you were right, Gaius. Perhaps I should have never got involved.” Merlin said, doubting his actions.

               “No, Merlin, I was wrong. Lancelot needed you and you needed Lancelot. Your destinies were entwined.” Gaius said, admitting to a mistake for the first time that Merlin knew him. Not even Gaius was infallible, then. No, that was the beauty of being human, you made mistakes and you learned from them. Lancelot had taught him that.

               “Will he ever return?”

               “That, I cannot say.” Gaius said, laying a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

               “Till next time then, Sir Lancelot.” Merlin said. _See you soon, dear friend_ the voice echoed, giving Merlin hope that he would indeed see his friend again. In all its time in Camelot, the voice had yet to be proven wrong, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my rewrite of the episode Lancelot... Just to include the little voice in Merlin's head, who is.....  
> Fyi I love the character of Lancelot so he might be popping up in some unexpected places sooner rather than later :)


	16. Sixteen Candles

_After all, you’re only sixteen once_

               Alienore had been in the past for almost a year. Some days, it felt as if her life in the past was the only life she had ever lived. Others, she longed for the modern comforts of hot baths, of cellphones and emails, of her old family and friends, of a safe little suburban world. Most days, she lived in between the two worlds, using her knowledge from her past life to rule as Regent. That mantle too had grown more comfortable as time went on, though it still remained a heavy burden. The Council had grown used to her organized rule, with only some of its oldest councilors murmuring when she went against its will. She had survived her first state visit, going to Nemeth to strike up a new alliance, one that promised military aid in case of an attack. It had helped that Mithian and her father would have supported Lyonesse in any case, but it still felt good having an actual treaty, in black and white, to back up the promises.  It was the first pact of its kind in Albion, and one that made Alienore beam with pride every time someone mentioned it. In fact, it was after she had made that particular suggestion that the Council had started treating her like a grown-up, not a child anymore. The knights, at first wary of a girl ruling them, had grown to respect Alienore too after seeing her training with Graham one morning when they had both lost track of time. After that, Sir Aidan, the captain of the Knights, offered to let Alienore come down to the practice field with the Knights, so that she would have some different opponents. Alienore readily agreed, happy that the Knights approved of her training sessions, and glad to let Graham have a rest. Graham had been a few months away from being knighted, and thus the Knights were driving him harder than ever before. Added to the extra training sessions, Graham had been looking worn out. That way, Alienore could go down after breakfast, train with the knights, and then spend the rest of the morning speaking with the Council and answering to correspondence.

               During her first knighting ceremony as Queen Regent, Alienore’s hand were shaking as she was handed the heavy ceremonial sword that had belonged to Olga, the founder of Lyonesse. There were three people up for a knighthood, Graham, and two twins named Bennett and Hamilton. Both of them were nice, taking the time out of training to spar with her every day, and were always treating her like a lady, even on the practice field. Yet, since a knighting was always held in the square outside the castle, it was also Alienore’s first public act since becoming Regent. She held the sword tightly, its jeweled hilt digging in her palm. Her knuckles were white from her strong grip, but at least her hands had stopped shaking. What a disaster it would have been if she injured the would-be knights instead of knighting them!

               “Kneel in front of your Princess!” called out Sir Aidan, his voice clear and strong behind her. The three lads knelt in a row in front of her, their heads bowed, but their eyes were looking up at her with a seriousness far beyond their tender years. They too had had to grow up faster than the regular folks that crowded the square, their breaths held as they waited for three more members to join the most elite force in the kingdom.

               Starting on the left hand, she said: “In the name of the Crown of Lyonesse and its ancient heritage, I knight thee.” The sword touched first one shoulder, then the other of the first boy, Hamilton. Then, she moved over and knighted his brother, leaving Graham for last.

               “Arise, Sirs Hamilton, Bennett, and Graham. Serve your country and your King well and uphold the sacred Code of the Knights of Lyonesse.” She said as she took the three blue cloaks from Sir Aidan’s hands. Draping one across the shoulders of each knight, she congratulated them on becoming full-fledged knights, and then let them join the ranks of knights to be congratulated by their new brothers-in-arms. Pausing before Graham, she hugged him tightly after draping his cloak.

               “I’m so proud of you, Graham.” She whispered, letting a couple of tears roll down her cheeks. Her brother had worked hard for this, putting in twice the amount of training as some of the other recruits in order to prove he wasn’t getting his knighthood due to his title. Mostly, he had grown to a man during those hard training sessions, his muscles filling out his lanky frame and shooting up until he towered over Alienore. His voice too had become deeper, marking him to be a youth no more. But, his face still held some of the childhood roundness, and that would always be the way Alienore thought of him. As her little brother, her partner in crime, her best friend, but also someone the she would always needed to protect. It was what older sisters did after all, in this century or the twentieth first.

               “And I’m so proud of you, Ali. My sister, the Queen.” Graham whispered back, squeezing her tighter. Then, aware of their public surroundings, they broke apart, sharing a bittersweet smile. They both knew that their father was the missing puzzle piece in this picture, yet they were both doing their best to make up for his absence.

               “Well go on, join your new friends!” Alienore said, her voice a little patronizing as she waved him over. However, she couldn’t completely hide her misty eyes, and Graham squeezed her shoulder one more time as he walked by her to join the knights. Alienore turned around to see him being congratulated, many of them patting him on the back and joking around. Graham would be a fine knight, indeed.

               That night, they held a feast in the castle. It was Elaine who managed to lift the spirits of her two siblings, who had been missing their father at such a momentous occasion. Coming up to hug her brother before taking her place at the high table, she asked: “Why do you get a pretty cloak, Graham? Mine and Ali’s are not as fancy as yours!” She said, her lips turning downwards in a pout. Being the youngest, both Alienore and Graham had coddled Elaine, treating her like a much younger child, despite being only three years younger. It had to do with her childish delight in small things, as well as Elaine’s fragile appearance. In short, both of her older siblings felt protective over little Elaine, and were putty in her hands. It came from their mother dying while Elaine was still very young, and thus both of them taking a more parental role towards Elaine.

               “I know, Laine. It’s a knight’s cloak. Very special.” Graham said, winking at Elaine.

               “I know that, silly! I just meant, I want one too!” Elaine said, smiling up at her brother after swatting him on the shoulders.

               “Ow! Laine, you’re starting to hurt… And you can’t have one, little one. I’m sorry, but knights only.” Graham said. He was the worst when it came to Elaine, giving in at the slightest frown on her small face. He had only made his little sister cry once, when he had been distracted by knights’ training and forgotten their on-going game of hide and seek. Elaine had waited for hours, stuck in a chest, waiting for him to find her. Eventually, some of the maids had found her, sobbing, and brought her back to her room, sending word down to the training field. Graham had rushed upstairs, holding his sister until her tears stopped, telling her tales of brave knights and fair maidens. Alienore, alerted to her sister’s distress, had rushed over from the Council chambers, giving Graham a silent scolding as she learned of what he’d done. After that, Graham had vowed that he would never make his sister cry again, seeing what a heartbreaking sight it was.

               “Then I’ll be a knight too!” Elaine said, excited to share an experience with her older siblings. Sharing a glance with Alienore, Graham found no help from that quarter. He had already heard plenty of times from Alienore that girls should be allowed to be knights. When he had said that girls weren’t strong enough to do so, Alienore had challenged him to a duel, and ended up winning it, forcing Graham to call peace with her sword at his throat. He had never said that girls weren’t strong enough after that; instead, he had claimed the Code of Lyonesse said only boys could become knights.

               “Girls can’t become knights, Laine. It’s in the Code. Plus, it’s a thankless job, long hours spent training with a sword in the rain, endless days on patrol, and lots of dirty smelling clothes.” Graham said.

               “I don’t care, you don’t seem to mind. And neither does Ali, she trains with the knights every day. Isn’t that right, Ali?” Elaine asked, drawing Alienore into the argument. Elaine had long since figured out that while Graham would win any physical fight, Alienore could run circles around him in a verbal fight. So, she had started getting sneaky, appealing for help to one or the other depending on the situation.

               “I agree with you totally on this, Laine. The dirt isn’t half bad, the days in the rain worthwhile, and we all know that a girl is as well-equipped as any man to wield a sword with enough practice. Isn’t that right, brother dearest?” Alienore said, with a pointed look at Graham.

               “One time! It was one time!” Graham said, exasperated.

               “Yet, I still had my sword at your throat. One time is all that it takes, right?” Alienore said.

               “Yes, but-“ Graham said, exasperated.

               “No buts, Graham. One of the first things I’m going to change when I reach my majority is the law banning girls to train as knights, and that’s the end of it.” Alienore said, a tone of finality in her voice and a hint of steel in her normally clear blue eyes.

               “Heavens help me and all those poor knights!” Graham muttered. “Why do I have to end up with the only two women on this Earth who aren’t content dressing in fine clothes and behaving like proper ladies?”

               “I didn’t quite catch that, brother dearest…” Alienore said, knowing very well what Graham had said. It was a terrible habit of his, muttering under his breath, one that he’d had ever since he was a child.

               “I said heaven help the poor people that choose to go against you when you get that gleam in your eyes, Ali.”

               “Good. Now, Laine, I see no reason why you can’t come out and train with me in the mornings, I need a sparring partner my own size now that Mithian’s gone…” Alienore said, her voice fading in the distance as she and Elaine walked away. Graham just shook his head as he rejoined the knights. He loved his sisters and wouldn’t trade them for the whole world, but he sure pitied the men who would marry them. Those two were going to be a handful.

\-------

               It was Alienore’s sixteenth birthday now, falling on September 10th. In her old life, she had look forward to this day for so long, seen it as the day she became an adult, the day she would get the independence and freedom she had craved ever since reaching her teens. Gone would be the days of being driven around by her parents, the days of not being able of attending parties due to her parents’ strict rules. She would be getting her drivers’ license today in her old life, hitting the mall with her friends and knowing that today would just be the first of many such outings. Maybe she would have had the Sweet Sixteen party she’d always dreamed of, in the Fairmont’s ballrooms, decorated with blue streamers and white roses, and a giant cake wishing her happy birthday. All her friends would have been there with her, dressed to the nines, and they would remember the day for years. At the same time, she would have been starting her junior year, getting ready for college with a heavy course load of AP classes. She wondered what she would have scored on the SAT, if she would actually be class valedictorian as she had dreamed, if she would have gotten into Brown, if she’d ended majoring in law or history. Well, she had a unique perspective on history now, but her parents had always pushed her to go into law school. In her old life, today would have been the first day of her adult life, one of those days she’d never forget. She would blow out the sixteen candles on top her cake, wondering if her parents would actually hand her a pair of car keys as her present, and wish for love, just as she’d had for the past fifteen birthdays. She could wonder even further as she stared out of the window of her tower, wonder if she would have ever gotten married in her dream gown, have her father walk her down the aisle towards the man she loved more than anything and whisper in her ear, “I love you”. All those things were gone for her, that nice little life she had dreamed out for herself. Instead, another one loomed, larger than life, a destiny greater than any she’d ever asked for.

               The day had been declared a holiday for everyone living in the city of Lyonesse, and a big fair was being held in the square in front of the castle. A short appearance in the square was set for that afternoon, and was followed by a banquet in her honor that night. No foreign kings had been invited as would usually been the custom, in respect for Alienore’s father’s illness. It was a fairly low-key birthday for medieval standards.

               She was wearing a new gown that afternoon as she made her way down to the square. Made entirely in cloth of silver, the outer gown was made in a heavy brocade. It had an outside border that was richly embroidered. The sweetheart neckline cutaway to show the lace of the under gown, gathering once again at the empire waist. The skirt cut away as well, showing a silver satin. The sleeves were tight, gathered at the elbow, with pointed ends that made Alienore’s normally short and chubby hands seem longer and graceful. She had no sword for once, no belt for keys and important items. Her hair was down, loosely curled, swept back by a delicate gold circlet. It was beautiful outfit, clearly meant for a princess. Yet, at the moment, she didn’t particularly feel like one. No, she felt small and insignificant, every bit the twentieth-first century sixteen year old, not the sixth century Queen she was supposed to be. She was a little girl playing dress up. Meeting the people was what drove that in that she wasn’t much different from them, that she hadn’t always lived like this. That, coupled with the bittersweet feeling from her birthday, was probably what had caused this reaction from her. Still, she wished she just could turn around and go back, but she couldn’t. She had a duty to perform, and she didn’t skip out on duty. Alienore tried to draw strength from Graham and Elaine, two strong pillars flanking her. Elaine was resplendent in green silk, her blond hair swept up in silver combs with just a couple tendrils escaping the intricate up-do. She looked so serene with her soft smile, so reassuring, that Alienore could help squeezing the arm that she held. Graham was somber, as he usually was after his knighting, wearing his flowing blue cape and chainmail. Yet, as he turned to face Alienore’s gaze, he too smiled in reassurance. Both of them would stand behind her in the face of the steepest odds, she realized in that moment. And, she would stand behind them. Drawing strength from that, her doubts were forgotten. She entered the square with her head held high, her back straight, and a gracious smile on her lips.

               Soon, she learned that she shouldn’t have been so afraid. The people of Lyonesse seemed to love the royal family, treating them like celebrities. They were kind, wishing Alienore happy birthday, and asking about her health. In return, she asked them questions about them, their lives, and their loves. She learned a lot about what life really was, how people still valued the same things, despite their far simpler lives. At the end of the afternoon, she was actually glad that she had gone. It had taught her a lesson in humility, to see people with so little offer her gifts and presents. As soon as she returned to the castle, she made her way down to kitchens, a place which she had had few reasons to visit in the past.

               “Your highness!” The cook said, startled. She had been in the midst of preparing the food for the banquet later tonight, and was startled to find the princess down here.

               “I’m sorry, I did not wish to disturb.” Alienore said, worried that she had come back at the wrong time. “I could come back later if this is not a good time.”

               “No, no! Of course now is fine! Darcy, stir the pot for me, would you?” The cook said, stepping away from the giant pot in order to let the kitchen maid take over. Wiping her hands on her apron, she led Alienore to a small table, the only thing not laden with food at the moment. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

               “You see, I was thinking…” Alienore explained. On the way back from the square, she had wanted to find something to give back to the normal folk who had shared the few things they’d had with her. Her mind had gone to the amazing food that came out of Lyonesse’s kitchens, and all the leftovers. So, she had come up with a plan. All of the scraps from the banquet tonight would be put in baskets, which would then be put at the doors of each of the houses in the lower town during the night. Accompanying them would be a personal note from her, thanking each family. The cook was overjoyed at this idea, something she had long wanted to do but had never had the courage to approach anyone about. Happy that such an easy and happy conclusion had been reached, Alienore went upstairs to write her notes.

               Thus, a tradition was born. Every year, at Christmas, the monarch’s birthday, any special occasion, baskets were left on the doorsteps of the people who were the backbone of the kingdom. It was Alienore’s own way of saying thank you to those who had taught her that you can never be so poor that you do not have something to give, even if that is just a hand extended in friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was one of my favorite chapters to write, because I think it is super relatable to see how Alienore reacts and adapts to her new conditions, and see her become used to living there. Hope you'll enjoy it, and as usual, please comment/review/kudos!


	17. Pretty Sure My Name’s Merlin, Always Has Been

_There is much written about you that you have yet to read_

               He had thought that with time, the view of Camelot as it came into his line of sight would have stopped taking his breath away. Instead, every time he crested the hill, it struck him anew. Merlin was just returning from searching for herbs for Gaius, and was just in time to see the dawn break behind the castle. He had needed the time and peace to recover from Arthur’s latest close call. A Sidhe, a fairy, had enchanted him and was planning to sacrifice him in order to gain passage back to Avalon, Land of the Immortals. Merlin had arrived in the nick of time to save Arthur from drowning, dragging his chainmail heavy body out of the water. Arthur’s face the next day, when he had learned of Merlin hitting him over the head (their cover story), had almost been worth it.

               Almost is the key word. As Merlin had raced down to the Lake of Avalon, the same lake that had given him such a weird feeling when he had stopped by on his way to Camelot, images and blurs played in his mind. Hints of red cloaks, a sorceress in a tattered black dress, a field of death, a pale boy with startling eyes standing before a prone figure, and blue eyes he had come to know so well, slowly fading. The voice in his head was silent, but Merlin was pretty sure that these images he was seeing, these blurs that he could not quite make out, were the memories of the voice, memories of an older Merlin. What a weird time for him to see them. Although, he didn’t quite see them, it was more a quick glimpse, the image never quite coming far enough into focus for Merlin to make out what it was depicting. Those images had disturbed him, haunted him as he tried to get some sleep. How could they not? They showed Merlin’s biggest fear, failure, not completing his destiny. Worse, he could not share it with anyone without seeming crazy. Gwen and Arthur were ruled out immediately by their ignorance of Merlin’s magic, and the dragon and Gaius were subsequently ruled out by their ignorance of the voice. It felt wrong, sharing the knowledge passed on by something that had become almost part of Merlin, almost like a conscience. Thus, Merlin went up to his room, his normally cheerful smile gone. Grabbing Arthur’s armor, he started vigorously polishing it. He had learned that the manual work helped keep his hands busy as he thought, while at the same time getting Arthur off his back. Not that Arthur didn’t love to complain, he would so whether his armor was dirty or clean, but Merlin took pride in actually delivering a clean armor. Maybe Uther was right back in the throne room, Merlin really was starting to develop some kind of mental affliction. He was actually starting to justify Arthur’s endless complaining!

\-----

               Merlin did not know why he had ever expected to have a single week where nothing went wrong. One week, a vengeful sorceress would be trying to kill them all, the next, they would have to rescue a wrongly accused sorcerer from the dungeon. Apparently, this week’s excitement would fall under the latter category. As Merlin had been walking to work, he had heard a voice in his head, calling for his help. _Help! Help me! Please. Please. You have to help me._

               Normally, Merlin wouldn’t have helped someone wanted for sorcery in broad daylight, in the middle of the market square. However, after seeing the little boy, no more than eight or nine, hiding in the cramped corner, clearly injured and scared out of his mind, he couldn’t just do nothing. Seeing the guards enter the market square, he knew he had a few seconds left to act. _They’re searching for me!_ The boy said, clearly agitated.

               _Why are they after you?_ Merlin said, scanning the square for a place to hide the boy.

               _They’re going to kill me_. The boy said, a startlingly coldness in his voice that was unnatural for one so young.

               Seeing the guards run in the opposite direction, Merlin rushed to the side door to the castle, opening it. _This way. Run. Run!_ He mind-yelled, motioning with his arm to make the boy move quicker. The boy, hindered by his injury, moved too slow.

               “Hey. There he is! Alert the rest of the guards!” A guard yelled, moving towards the door that Merlin had just snapped closed. Grabbing a hold of the boy’s arm (from the uninjured side) he started running, up the curved stairs, all the way to the floor that housed the bedchambers of the royal children. Knocking on Morgana’s door, he just hoped that his half-baked plan would actually work, that Morgana wouldn’t take one look at him and the boy and call the guards on them. It was, after all, illegal to harbor a sorcerer in Camelot.

               Fortunately for Merlin, Morgana understood. She let Merlin and the boy hide behind her changing screen as she lied to the guards about having seen them. He had been right, she was sympathetic to the boy’s plight. Whether it was due to her own blossoming magic (because Merlin recognized the signs even as Gaius denied them) or her own kind, compassionate nature, Merlin did not know. _Maybe it’s because they’re of a kind_ the voice said, a nasty edge to his tone. Merlin had already gathered that the voice had little good to say of Morgana, but he didn’t know what he would have against this poor boy. The voice sounded bitter whenever he spoke of Morgana, as if the experiences he had lived through had caused him to lose hope in the world. Merlin dearly hoped that he would never become that way.

               _What do you mean they’re of a kind? Is it because they have magic? Because everyone here except Gwen is of a kind._ Merlin said, rebuking the voice. Morgana had always seemed to be a kind person, compassionate and brave enough to stand up to Uther for those unjustly accused. Plus, she and Gwen were good friends, and to Merlin, that meant you couldn’t be a bad person, not if Gwen believed there was good in you. She was the best judge of character he had ever met, unprejudiced and kind, and he trusted her judgment above all others. Well, maybe not above Gaius’s or the dragon’s, but they were his advisors on magical matters.

               _I must say no more lest the very thing I am trying to prevent comes to pass._ The voice said, cryptic as always. Why did creatures of magic feel the need of speaking in code?

\----

               Merlin felt bad for the boy. He had just seen his father executed by a cruel, scared man. Mordred had shown no outside sign of what his father’s execution did to him, but Merlin had heard his mental scream and seen the mirror shatter. He was sure that Morgana had too by the way she flinched. The boy was hurting, on the inside as well as the outside. It wasn’t easy, having your father ripped from you. Merlin could only imagine how he would have felt at that age if Hunith had been ripped in such a way from him. Arthur had tried to get his father to show mercy, to at least give the man a fair trial, but to no use. Uther saw the world in black and white, good and evil, magic vs. everything else. He refused to see the shades of grey, refused to see a world where magic could exist peacefully in Camelot. That was the difference between Arthur and Uther, and what would always make Arthur the better man and, ultimately, the greater king.

               But he had more pressing matters to consider. Mordred’s wound and Morgana’s apparent acceptance of magic, despite her lack of knowledge of her own talents, was weighing heavily on his mind. Despite Gaius’ earlier anatomy lesson, Mordred’s wound was not getting any better. Merlin was trying his best, but even Morgana’s untrained eyes could tell that he was unsure of what he was doing.

               “I’m doing my best.” He said, trying to assure Morgana. Her worried gaze was intense, burning a hole in the back of Merlin’s head as he bent down to spread a poultice on the infected wound. Morgana did not do things half –way, no she threw the whole of herself in, whether it was protecting a little boy or fighting with Arthur. Her wide green eyes helped emphasize this trait, making her gaze seem even more focused, more insightful. Intense, that was a good word to describe the Lady Morgana.

               “I’ll go get you some more water.” Morgana said, realizing that Merlin needed space to breathe if he was going to heal the poor boy.

               _Thank you, Emrys_ the boy spoke, once more in Merlin’s head as soon as Morgana was out of sight. Merlin guessed that the boy did not want Morgana to overhear, in case her burgeoning powers allowed her to listen in to their mental conversations. But, wait, what had the boy called him?

               _Emrys? Why do you call me that?_ Merlin asked.

               _Among my people, that is your name._ The boy replied.

               Great, yet another cryptic reply. Soon, Merlin was just going to stop talking to magical creatures, since he could never get a straight answer out of them. He could come up with a mystical sounding rhyme as well as the next bloke. On the day that lights will shine in the sky, the dilemma will be solved. _You know who I am. How?_ He asked, futilely.

               “Speak to me.” Merlin said aloud, frustrated by the boy’s silence. Morgana wandered back in at that very moment with a pail of water. She had been the reason for the boy’s silence apparently.

               Believing Merlin’s frustrated command to be referring to the boy’s inability to speak out loud, Morgana leaned over and whispered to Merlin in order to not be heard by the boy. “I don’t know if he can’t speak or… he’s just too scared to.”

               Merlin stayed for a few more minutes, reassuring Morgana that the boy had a good chance to pull through his fever. Then, with the excuse of being wanted by Gaius for some chore or another, he headed off to visit the dragon. He was actually pretty disturbed by the boy’s knowledge of him and his powers, and that name, Emrys, why would he call him that? It was definitely weird, especially since Merlin did not recall anyone ever calling him that. Yet, the boy had seemed so convinced, and the voice had not denied it. So here he was again, going down to get some answers from the riddle-speaking dragon.

               “Hello?” Merlin asked to the darkness, waving his torch around. The dragon was not perched on his usual rock, nor was he anywhere to be seen.

               A whoosh of air from the great wings forced Merlin to turn aside, only to be startled by a powerful roar. He gave a short sigh, then asked, “Do you have to do that? You scared the life out of me.” He knew he would not get an answer out of the dragon, yet he always had to at least try.

               “The young warlock. No doubt you’re here about the Druid boy.” The dragon said, brushing Merlin’s question aside as per usual. His tone held the usual condescending and patronizing notes, as well as a little bit of smugness and superciliousness that never failed to get on Merlin’s nerves. _Come on, he isn’t so bad_ the voice in his head said, choosing this moment to make itself known once more.

               _Nice of you to join the party_ Merlin said, referring to the similar ways in which the boy and the voice talked to him.

               _I am nothing like him_ the voice said, indignant.

               _Whatever you say_ Merlin replied.

               Aloud, he asked the dragon one of the many questions that weighted on his mind. “How did you know?”

               “Like you, I hear him speak.” The dragon said. Interestingly enough, the dragon could hear the boy, yet he had never mentioned hearing the other voice that spoke to Merlin. Maybe it was meant just for Merlin? Or maybe he was just crazy, he thought not for the first time. But really, he did not believe that. The voice seemed to know things before they happened, hinting at them just enough for Merlin to be on his guard without warning him outright.

               “Why does he call me Emrys?” Merlin asked, the question he had been pondering ever since hearing that name for the first time that afternoon. _And not for the last_ , the voice whispered.

               “Because that is your name.” The dragon said as if that should have been obvious to Merlin.

               “I’m pretty sure my name’s Merlin, always has been.”

               “You have many names.” The dragon replied, with what Merlin was sure was an eye roll, even though it was difficult to know with him being a dragon and all.

               “Do I? How does the boy know who I am? I’ve never even met any Druids.” Merlin said, shocked that he would have a different name among a tribe of magical people he had never interacted with. How had the boy known that Merlin was this Emrys? He just could not fathom it.

               “There is much written about you that you have yet to read.” The dragon said. _Emrys, your name, your destiny_ the voice echoed, somewhat more cryptic than the dragon for once. But the dragon wasn’t done, adding, “You should not protect this boy.”

               “Why? He has magic. He’s just like me.” Merlin said, not understanding why the dragon could be so callous with the life of a little boy. He was so alone, so defenseless, how could Merlin not help him? Merlin could have easily been in the boy’s shoes if their roles had been reversed. No, Merlin was doing the right thing in helping this boy. Or was he? What was a skinny young man like Merlin to say what the right to do was? But then again, helping a little boy, lost and hunted, was definitely the right thing to do.

               “You and the boy are as different as day and night” The dragon said, shaking his head. _Or light and dark,_ the voice echoed once more. Weird that the voice and the dragon seemed to be in complete agreement this one time. Usually, the dragon had a more black and white view of the world, while the voice encouraged Merlin to see the shades of grey in between.

               “What do you mean?” Merlin asked, both aloud and mentally. He wanted both of their answers.

               “Heed my words, Merlin.” The dragon said, refusing to explain any longer.

               “Why should I not protect him?” Merlin asked, but the dragon just flew away in response. He was done talking for the day.

               _And you, what do you mean?_ Merlin asked the voice once more.

               _Listen to the dragon, Merlin. That boy is trouble._ The voice said, also not explaining any longer.

               _But why?_ Merlin asked, frustrated.

               Silence greeted his question. The voice was done talking for the night as well. Throwing his hands up in defeat, Merlin went upstairs to help Arthur get ready for bed. At least, Arthur would speak clearly. If he was upset at Merlin, he would throw a shoe at him. Otherwise, he’d tease Merlin about his ears, or his beloved neckerchief, or call him an idiot. But he wouldn’t speak in rhymes, he reflected with a wry grin at the thought. God save them the day that Arthur decided to speak in rhyme.

\-----

               Merlin was sitting on his bed, his head under his small pillow, trying to drown out the sound of the warning bell. It had started ringing no more than five minutes before, signaling that Arthur and Morgana had actually gone through with their plan to rescue the Druid boy out of the dungeon. Merlin was supposed to meet Arthur at the exit of the dungeons that faced the Darkling Woods, opening the grate from the outside for them. Yet, he was here in Gaius’ chambers. He just could not bring himself to go directly against both the voice and the dragon, especially when the dragon had specifically told him to let the boy die when he had gone back to get some clarity. After all, both of them were older and wiser than him, and knew the right thing to do. His conscience, however, did not rest so easy. By not doing his part in the plan, he was effectively condemning an innocent boy to death, just because he was born with magic. Moreover, he was condemning one of his own to death.

 _Emrys. Emrys. Where are you, Emrys? Emrys. Help us. Please! They're coming!_ The boy’s voice in his head said, clearly scared. For the first time, the boy’s voice lacked a certain coldness that had marked it, something Merlin had always found weird in a child so young. No, now nothing but despair and feat could be heard in the boy’s voice. He could try to drown out the warning bell, pretend that he did not know what was happening, but he could not drown out a voice in his head. There was only one thing to do, the right thing. Merlin got up and started running, hoping he wouldn’t be too late to help Arthur and the boy. After all, the boy was of a kind to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I imagine was going on in Merlin's head when he first met Mordred, and how he might try to change his actions knowing what was to come... As always, please review/comment!


	18. Her Father's Daughter

_“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”_

               A few months later, Alienore had to face her biggest worry since moving to the past. (Except her inability to find Merlin.) Alienore’s father. It had become a necessity, since she needed answer from his cryptic and rambling letter. She had consulted with the Council, the Court Librarian, her father’s senior knights. She had been unable to find the prophecy he had talked of, or any other information except shadowy rumors. She needed answers. That morning, Graham, Elaine, and Alienore were supposed to visit her father for the first time since Alienore had arrived in the past. She was worried not only if she recognized him, but what if she recognized him, and remembered a lifetime of love, of family with this man, only to know that he didn’t have long left. They rode out early, with only two knights for company. Coincidentally, they were Hamilton and Bennett, the two twins that Alienore had knighted earlier in the year. They were nice lads, helping Alienore and Elaine mount and joking around with the three royals on the ride over to their second residence. Alienore rode her usual mount, a beautiful chestnut mare with a black mane called Autumn. Attached to the pommel of her saddle was her sword, which she had insisted on taking, despite Graham’s protest on being able to protect her and Elaine. Elaine had her bow with her, a weapon with which she had proven quite lethal with, much better than Alienore’s usual mediocre performance. The small party had been in good humor as they left the palace, stoked for the festivities later in the day. As they approached the fortified castle that now served as the King of Lyonesse's residence, only an hour’s ride, each of them fell silent, absorbed in their own thoughts.

               As they entered the small courtyard, the pound of their horses’ hooves echoed, making the fortified citadel seem emptier than it looked. A silent groomsman took the reins from the three knights, who then walked over to help the ladies dismount. Bennett and Hamilton took the horses to the stables to be cared for, leaving the three siblings alone on the steps.

               “Shall we?” Alienore said, her voice not as strong as she’d liked.

               “Ali, we don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. We can come back another time.You've been doing so well with everything, ruling and keeping the peace, we don't have to ruin all that because of-of” Graham said, unable to finish. Instead, he gestured at the castle in front of them, encompassing the situation, their father’s illness, everything that had been going on.

               “No, it’s fine. I want to do this, he’s our father, Graham.” Alienore said, steeling herself for the task.

               Elaine, understanding her sister’s distress, took her arm, saying, “We’ll be right there with you, Ali.”

               “Thanks, Laine.” Alienore said. They entered the grey fortress, meant to defend the border, not as a royal residence. Yet, it was especially beloved by their father, so he had refurbished it as a hunting lodge, making the inside fell much warmer than its stark exterior. They were greeted by their father’s familiar manservant, a grey haired man named Lucan who could have been in his forties or his seventies, he just had one of those ageless faces that never seemed to change. He led them upstairs, to their father’s chamber, explaining that today seemed to be one of their father’s more lucid days.

               Opening the door, he remained outside, letting the royal siblings visit their father in privacy. The King’s room looked much the same as it had the last time Alienore had been there, her acquired memories told her. The big fireplace held hunting trophies and a giant, stuffed boar head hung above it. A bear skin served as a rug in front of it, with a big wing chair placed on top of it in order to be close to the fire on the cold winter nights. Due to its original defensive purpose, the room lacked windows, making it seem smaller than its actual size.

               Their father sat on the wing chair, tilted away from the fireplace as if expecting them. “Alienore, Graham, Elaine…my children… so good to see you.” Said the hunched over man in a croaky voice. The man looked similar to their father, having the same green eyes he had passed down to Graham and Elaine, and dark brown hair, a shade darker than Alienore’s. Their mother had been the one with the fair hair, passing it down to Elaine, while Graham was the hybrid between the two parents. But, the man in the wing chair had aged twenty years from the last time Alienore had seen him. He was bent over, as if the cares of the world were beating him down, and his hair had white streaks that had not been there before. He looked shrunken, as if he’d lost the pure presence that had announced his kingliness before. His eyes, while looking lucid, were glazed over, a sign of his illness, and his hands shook slightly as he got up.

               “Father.” Graham said, clearing his voice. He had been the first to recover from the shock, moving forwards to help their father up. He hugged the feeble form, who patted him gently on the back.

               “My son. A knight, I see. A fine one, no doubt.” King Edric said.

               “That still needs to be seen. However, I do manage not to injure any important body parts on a daily basis, a significant improvement from my first days training.” Graham joked, earning a smile from their father.

               “Indeed. You were a menace with your little wooden sword, hitting the knees of visiting dignitaries at random.” Their father said.

               “Oi! I wasn’t the only one!” Graham said, looking back at Alienore.

               “No, indeed. You were always dragged along on those escapades by Alienore and Mithian, weren’t you?” Their father asked.

               Laughing, Graham nodded. “They wanted a wooden sword too, so they beat me with mine till I went upstairs and grabbed a couple for them as well. Nothing’s changed there, as it, Ali?”

               “Oh?” Their father said, sensing a story.

               Alienore laughed, but gave Graham a warning look. She wasn’t sure that troubling their father about her newly acquired skills was a wise thing. Graham only shrugged and smiling at her, turned back to their father. “Yes, well, Ali had insisted that she should know how to wield a sword for, ahem, protection.”

               Their father turned to look at Alienore, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Alienore blushed, turning her face towards the ground. She wanted her father to approve of her, both as queen and as a daughter. Their father, sensing that Graham would be the only one to talk at the moment, turned back towards his only son. “Is she any good with it?”

               Graham smiled, a grin that Alienore had often thought made him look rather like the Cheshire cat. “She’s pretty wicked with it. The knights let her train with us, and she usually manages to win at least half her training matches every day.”

               “Don’t forget to mention the time my sword was at your throat!” Alienore muttered, still unwilling to meet their father’s gaze. Now it was Graham’s turn to blush, which caused their father to laugh. That laugh, full and hearty, was so similar to the old King that all their heads snapped to his face. Yes, traces of the King were still there, but they were slipping further beneath the surface every day.

               “And you, little one?” Their father said, turning to Elaine. “Have you suddenly turned into a warrior princess when I wasn’t looking?”

               Elaine smiled shyly, stepping forward to hug their father. “I learned how to use a longbow, but that’s pretty much it…” She said, modestly.

               “Father, Laine has become the best shot in Lyonesse. She could hit a pigeon from off the castle walls’!” Graham said, apparently not as shy as his sisters.

               Their father just smiled, and then asked if he could speak to each of them individually. Letting Elaine go first, Graham and Alienore found themselves waiting impatiently in the hallway.

               “Will you quit pacing?” Graham said, annoyed by Alienore’s quick steps back and forth in the small hallway.

               “How long as she been in there?”

               “Only five minutes more than the last time you asked me, Ali.” Graham said, patiently waiting. He was slouching against the wall, his eyes half closed as he tried to rest. The night before, he’d been on guard duty, which meant that he’d gotten little sleep combined with their early start this morning. He awoke to see Alienore with her ear pressed against the door, trying to peer in through the keyhole.

‘              “What are you doing, Ali?” He said, amused. Alienore started at hearing his voice, snapping around to look at him.

               “Umm well you see… just checking that everything was going okay…I thought you were asleep!” Alienore said, flustered. Graham would have teased her for eavesdropping, but Elaine opened the door and said that their father wanted to speak with Graham next. Graham went inside, closing the door beside him with a lifted eyebrow at Alienore.

               “What did he say, Laine?” Alienore asked. Even though she’d tried her best to peer in the room, she hadn’t heard any of the conversations between her father and Elaine. She had been worried about her father having one of his spells while speaking with Elaine, and didn’t want to upset her. That had been the reason behind her eavesdropping, not curiosity, as Graham would most likely tease her for later.

               “Not much. Mostly he just wanted to know how we spend our days. But, Ali, he gave me Astolat as my dowry! He said that from my fifteenth birthday on, I will be Countess of Astolat, held in my own right till my marriage!” Elaine said, her voice not as happy as her words would suggest.

               “You sound worried about it, Laine. It’s a generous settlement, worthy of a princess. What’s wrong with it?” Alienore said, her voice soothing.

               “Nothing is wrong with it! I don’t want to get married, to grow up, and to have to be an adult! I’m not you, Ali!” Elaine said, her voice raised.

               “I know, Laine. And I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be yourself. But, this is Father’s way of providing for you when he can no longer do so. You have many years ahead of you, little one, so don’t worry about it now.” Alienore said, hugging Elaine tightly. Silently, she promised to herself that she would make sure that Elaine would indeed have years and years ahead of her, years in which to reach her potential and fulfill her destiny. This time, neither of their lives would be cut short.

               Soon enough, Graham came out and it was Alienore’s turn to go in and speak to their father. She approached slowly, trying not to startle him. She had already discovered that she was unsure on how to behave around her father, uneasy with a man that part of her loved dearly and part of her had just met.

               “Alienore. My darling daughter. How you’ve grown up. Step into the light so that I might see you better.” King Edric said, gesturing for his daughter to step out of the gloom near the doorway. Alienore took hesitant steps forward until she was standing by the window, only a few steps away from her father.

               “Father. It’s good to see you.” Alienore said, smiling tentatively.

               “Indeed. But I expect you have plenty of questions to ask, don’t you, my curious daughter?” Her father said, smiling at the old joke. When she had been just a few years old, Alienore had toddled into a meeting between her father and a visiting king. Annoyed at having had to wait for so long, she started asking question after question, ending with “Father, why does he have a bear on his head?” (The king came from a harsh mountain kingdom and was wearing a typical fur headpiece). Fortunately, the king had chosen not to get offended at the little girl’s comment, laughing good naturally instead, but since then, her father had called Alienore curious.

               “Just a couple hundred or so…” Alienore shot back, smiling in return. “But one pressing matter: your letter.” She said, returning to the serious matter that she had wanted to discuss ever since reading that letter on her first day in the past.

               “Yes. I’m sorry if I didn’t explain myself very clearly, I was having one of my less lucid days.” Her father said, not needing to ask which letter she was referring to.

               “I have looked everywhere for the prophecy you mentioned, but it’s nowhere to be found. Neither the Council nor the Court Librarian have been able to found it.”

               “Yes, of course, they wouldn’t be able to find it. It’s down in the vaults, inside Queen Heloise’s diary. It’s in the same cabinet as the secret escape routes out of the castle.” Alienore nodded, touching the key that hung on a necklace beneath her dress. Her father had given it to her when he had first fallen sick, and it opened the door behind which the most precious-and dangerous- treasures of Lyonesse were found.

               “Alienore, that’s not all. In the vaults there’s a sword, hanging on the wall. It has a gold hint, with intricate Druid scrollwork, and a sapphire set in the hilt. Its name is Joyeuse, and it was forged in a dragon’s breath during the age of the dragons. It is the last of its kind, and the only weapon that will kill the witch Grunhilda. Take it, and never be parted from it.”

               “I will, father.” Alienore promised solemnly. “Though, I did have one other question: why must I flee to Camelot?”

               “Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot, has long since banned the practice of magic in his kingdom. But, the druids speak of a warlock, more powerful than any other that has ever walked the Earth, called Emrys, who defends Camelot and, together with Uther’s son Arthur, will build the greatest kingdom. Grunhilda knows of this, and would not dare set foot within Emrys’ realm” Her father said. Alienore started at the name Emrys, since Merlin had told her by the lake that the Druids called him Emrys. She had indeed come to the right time!

               “When we signed the treaty with Camelot, almost fifteen years ago now, I showed Uther the prophecy. We put in the treaty that should the monarch of Lyonesse ever come to Camelot’s gates, he or she shall receive aid and vice versa. In private, Uther promised me to aid you against Grunhilda should the need ever arise.” Her father continued.

               “I don’t trust Uther, he is blinded by his hatred of magic.” Alienore said, remembering what Merlin had told her and her own brief visit to Camelot, five years prior.

               “And that proves your wisdom, my daughter. No, Uther has long been unable to see anything but his hatred. In this case, it might prove an advantage for you, but be careful not to mistake safeguarding one’s interest as concern for your well-being.” Her father cautioned.

               “Thank you father, I will do as you suggest.” Alienore said, seeing her father’s wearied face. It was time to go. She stepped forward to hug the frail body, and whispered ‘I love you’.

               Her father’s grip was surprisingly strong for his haggard appearance. He still towered over Alienore, so he bent his head to whisper in her ear; “My Alienore, you are so alike your mother. Beautiful and wise, just and loyal. I am proud of you. Take care of Lyonesse and your siblings for me, since I am now unable you. I love you, my daughter.” He said, his eyes misting over. Alienore could stop the tears that rushed to her eyes, so her father was a blur as she stepped away.

               “I shall see you soon, father.” She said, in lieu of goodbye. She closed the door behind her, the soft thud startling final.

_(To Be Continued...)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super long, so I decided to split it into two halves, especially since they can pretty much standalone. I'll post the next half next week! As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and liking!


	19. Her Father's Daughter, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the huge delay between chapters... Life just got in the way big time.

Alienore was pensive on the ride back, unable to join in the cheerful banter between the two knights and her siblings. She was mulling over what her father had told her, trying to fit it with the small clues she already had about her destiny. From what the Gatekeepers and Merlin had told her, Alienore had died at age 21, five years from now, after being taken captive. Captured with her was Elaine, who had died alongside Alienore, and Graham had died trying to rescue his sisters, effectively ending the kingdom of Lyonesse. For a while, powerful nobles had fought each other on who should take control of the once proud kingdom, and eventually a warlord had captured it and renamed it the kingdom of Kent. So the house of Lyonesse had ended, its legacy tarnished and left to die in obscurity. Now, Alienore was guessing that Grunhilda was the witch who had kidnapped her and Elaine, but her memories of events that had not yet returned, so she wasn’t sure. Tonight, however, she would try to learn all that she could of this witch.

               They arrived in the courtyard as the sun was setting behind the castle. Time had flown whilst they were visiting their father, what had seemed like a short visit had actually lasted over three hours. They had had a quick luncheon on the road before visiting their father, so everyone was famished as they entered the Great Hall. Seeing that the evening meal was already being served, the three siblings opted to go in and eat instead of changing their travel stained clothes. As soon as Alienore sat down, however, she was besieged by requests and important matters that had arisen during her absence. Signing off on the correspondence and passing judgment on two land disputes between bites, Alienore did not get a chance to talk to Graham till he was accompanying her upstairs.

               “Graham?” She said as they arrived at her door. “I have a favor to ask.”

               “Yes?” Graham said, surprised. His sister had clearly been worried about something their father had told her all afternoon. Her eyes had that faraway look that they always got whenever she was thinking too hard, her forehead scrunched up as her mind chased itself in circles.

               “Tonight, I need to go down to the vaults.” Alienore said. She knew that this was asking a big favor to her brother, who was clearly exhausted from his late night duties the day before and their early start this morning. “And, I don’t really want to go down alone. So, would you come with me?”

               “Ali, why do you need to go down to vaults in the middle of the night?” Graham said with a sigh. He really was exhausted, and an adventure in the depths of the castle was not what he was looking forward to. Couldn’t he have one night off from the danger of being a knight and the adventure that was being Alienore’s brother? Apparently, not. He knew that he would not turn his sister down any time that she needed him, as she obviously needed him now, but she could have picked a more convenient time!

               “I can’t talk about it now” Alienore said with a pointed glance at the two guards outside her room. “Meet me at the entrance to the dungeons at midnight and I’ll explain, okay?”

               “Fine.” Graham said. He went down to finally get off the heavy chainmail, foreseeing another night with little to no sleep.

               Alienore just wanted a bath, something hot, and to crawl beneath her warm covers, not necessarily in that order. The winter chill was really starting to set in, and not even the cheery fire in the fireplaces around the castle could really ward it off. She was bone-weary, and just wanted to get out of her dirty traveling gown. Fortunately, Brownen was waiting, with a hot water for a bath and a clean nightgown. Alienore took her bath, savoring it for as long that she could. Then, she put on the nightgown, not wanting to alert Brownen to her plans for later her night.

               “Did the visit to your father go well, my lady?” Brownen asked as she collected the dirty garments and tidied up the already spotless room. Brownen hated to stay still, so whenever she didn’t have a set task she would start putting things in order that already were in their proper place. It drove Alienore crazy some days, but it also reminded her of her mother back in Washington, so she just let it slide.

               “As well as can be expected under the circumstances.” Alienore said, exiting from behind the screen with her nightgown on. She sat down on the small vanity table, as Brownen made her way over to brush her tangled hair and put it in a nice braid. Her hair had grown in the year she’d been here, and now reached her waist. It often got in her way as she trained with a sword, which is why she usually wore it braided down her back at night, so she wouldn’t have to call Brownen in the morning to help with getting dressed. She had had a special chainmail made, super light, that buckled in the front so that she could get dressed without anyone's help. Underneath, she wore simple leggings, belted at the waist, and a blue tunic that had buckles on the front. This was an advantage for tonight, since Alienore could easily dress herself before meeting Graham, without needing to call for help from Brownen.

               “I’m glad to hear it, my lady. Is that all for the night?” Brownen asked, tying off the braid with a blue ribbon.

               “Yes, thank you Brownen. Good night!”

               “To you as well, my lady.” Brownen said closing the door behind her. As soon as Alienore heard her footsteps echoing off in the distance, she stood up, taking off her white nightgown. She hurried over to the chest where she stored her training clothes, throwing them on. With all her preparations done, all that remained to do was wait for the clock on the square to ring eleven and half, so she could sneak off to meet Graham at the appointed time. She was awful at waiting. She tried sitting at her desk to do paperwork, reading correspondence and proposals, but she was just too restless to concentrate. Quitting, she got up to pace, but her thoughts were just a jumble that even that did not help. Finally, she settled in to stand by the window, staring out at the sea, as restless as her tonight. The full moon rose, high and proud in the sky, reflected in the grey sea. Alienore reflected in the last time she had just sat by a window and saw the moon rise; it had barely been a year ago. Yet, what a difference a year made. Last year, she’d been a naïve girl, sitting by a  window and wishing to experience the same feelings that a dream had left her in real life. Her life was simple and easy, her only job to do well in school in order to get into a good college. Now, she was a Queen in everything but name, ruling a kingdom in a ruthless time. Lives depended on her decisions. Hanging over her head remained a destiny, one that could very well mean her death in five years. The only thing the stood between her death and her was her own determination to not be a victim of destiny. She grown up in the past year, faced with decisions far beyond what that fifteen year old girl in Washington would have been able to deal with. She heard the clock strike the hour, and the time of reminiscing was over. Picking up her sword, she left that naïve fifteen year old at the window sill and went to meet the next chapter of her life with her head held high; it was after all, what a Queen would do.

               Graham was early, unable to sleep like her. He arrived a few minutes after her, bearing a torch. He stopped at the door to the dungeons, not looking at the shadowed alcove where Alienore hid.

               “Graham.” She said, stepping out behind him. He was obviously startled, whipping around to shine the torch in Alienore’s eyes, his hand resting on the sword at his belt.

               “Alienore! You gave me a fright!” Graham said, his hand falling away from his sword to clutch his chest. Alienore had to resist laughing at his surprised face, it had been a long time since she could sneak up on her alert brother. He looked surprised to see her in her chainmail outside of training, his eyebrow raised in a silent question.

               “It was the only thing I could find that did not require Brownen’s help.” Alienore responded. Impatient, she said, “Are we going to go or not?” picking up her own torch from the wall. Sometimes, she was surprised at how normal this seemed, using torches instead of light bulbs, chainmail instead of comfortable sweatshirts.

               “Yes. After you…” Graham said, giving her his best courtly gesture. Alienore stepped forward, and reaching beneath the heavy chainmail, drew out the key to the vaults.

               “Ah, so that’s where you keep it!”

               “It always seemed like the safest place. Be kind of hard not to notice someone reaching in to take it, now would it?” Alienore said with a wry smile. She started going down the stairs, wielding the torch in order to light her path. She definitely did not want to trip here, where she did not know what she might meet in the darkness.

               “I guess so. I certainly would have never thought to look there.”

               “Aw, look at you, Graham. Such a gentleman. Maybe that’s why Mithian likes you so much.” Alienore teased.

               “Mithian? Has she mentioned me?” Graham asked sharply.

               “So you do like her!” Alienore said, triumphant. She had suspected that there was something deeper than friendship between those two during Mithian’s latest visit. Mithian had blushed a deep red whenever Graham had helped her off her horse or given her his arm, and in return, Graham’s gaze had softened whenever he looked at her. Gone was the casual teasing that had existed since their childhood. Mithian no longer treated Graham like a little brother, no, she had been aware of his growing up long before Alienore. Her best friend and her little brother were in love, she thought, smiling. Could anything be more perfect?

               “How did you figure it out?” Graham said, knowing it to be useless to argue. It was hard enough to lie to Alienore’s face on regular occasions, harder still after having just admitted it. She had used one of her favorite ways of drawing information, dropping hints in polite conversation till the person confirmed her suspicions. Normally, Graham was one of the few people who realized this and was immune to this, but this time, she had caught him completely off-guard.

               “Oh c’mon, give me some credit. A blind man could see it, much less me! I’ve known the both of you since you were babes, you know.” Alienore said, managing to sound like an older sister and the close friend that she was all at once.

               “You’re not mad?”

               “No! Why would I be? This is perfect! My best friend will one day be my sister-in-law? It’s like Mithian will finally be my sister in name!” Alienore said, dropping some modern phrases in there due to her enthusiasm. Graham was too relived to notice, thankfully. She wasn’t lying, she really, truly was happy for them. Now, if only she met her own prince….

               “Alienore.” Graham had stopped on the step above her.

               “Why did you stop moving? Come on, I want to get this over before we get attacked by spiders.” One of Alienore’s biggest fears was spiders, something that Graham never stopped teasing her for. Thus, she was terrified to be down here, where spiders might be crawling just beyond the light from the torch.

               “I-I-I just wanted to say thank you, I guess. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

               “Of course.” Alienore said, going back up to hug her brother. His words were strangely moving. “You’re my brother and whatever makes you happy makes me happy. If that happens to be my best friend, well that’s a bonus.” Alienore said, smiling. Graham had to laugh, that was something only Alienore would say.

               “Now, can we please go before I start freaking out about the spiders?”

               Laughing, Graham started going down the steps once more. The door to the vaults was only a couple steps lower. It was a heavy wooden door, meant to withstand the ages, with a steel padlock. Drawing the ornate key off the necklace, Alienore pushed Graham aside in order to open it. The lock was rusty from its age, and it took considerable force to move. Finally, Alienore was able to jam the key in just the right way, and the lock sprang open with a satisfying click.

               “We’re in!” Alienore said, entering the vaults before her brother. The vaults were a long gallery, extending at least 40 feet. Lining its side were shelves with precious books and dangerous weapons hung on the wall. The walking space was narrow, crowded on all sides by a mess of objects, sometime lying on tables or spilling out of chests, other times, littering the ground. Everywhere, the glimmer of gold and silver, precious gems and polished steels, attracted the eye. The ceiling was arched, with columns at regular intervals down the room, and was particularly high for being so far underground. A two story house would have fit comfortably. A gate stood about halfway down, to protect the most valuable items. It was hard for Alienore to not gape at sight, she had never seen such splendor gathered. Graham seemed no less affected, since their father had only brought them down once.

               “Is that what I think it is?” Graham said, speaking of a sword lying in glass case, resting on red velvet. It stood on a table a few feet away, so they covered the small space to admire it. It was breath-taking, catching the light from the torches and reflecting it back.

               It was. Alienore, unable of speech, just nodded. Before them stood the legendary Singing Sword of Conaire Mór, High King of Ireland. It was said to have the might of a hundred victories, and guaranteed a hundred more to those who wield it. Graham reached down as if to take it up, but Alienore swatted his hand away. “No, we shouldn’t touch anything except what Father told us to.”

               They backed away from the sword, still in its thrall. “What is exactly we’re trying to find?” Graham asked.

               “It’s a long story.” Alienore said, moving carefully towards the gate halfway down the gallery. Seeing that Graham had stopped, she turned around to face him. “A while back, Father sent me a letter, long and rambling. It spoke of a secret threat against Lyonesse, by a vengeful witch named Grunhilda. It’s a secret that’s apparently been passed down by generations. Then, Father told me of what to if this Grunhilda were to attack during my reign, and told me to come down here to find a prophecy, saying that it will clear things up. And then, he said to take the sword Joyeuse.”

               “JOYEUSE IS DOWN HERE????” Graham said, practically yelling. He started twisting his head around madly, trying to peer in fifteen different directions at once.

               “Yeah, that’s what Father said. Why is it so important?” Alienore said, shocked at her brother’s reaction. He looked like a kid who had just met his football hero, not the cool-headed knight she knew Graham to be.

               “Ali, Joyeuse was forged in a dragon’s breath. Nothing, and I mean nothing, on this Earth can resist its touch. It was thought to be lost, destroyed, a long time ago.” Graham said, as if explaining something that should have been obvious. “And to think, it was down here all this time!”

               “Are you going to help me find it or just stand there gawking?” Alienore said, annoyed to be talked down to. So maybe she hadn’t gotten the exact meaning of the sword’s name the first time around, that did not mean she was an idiot. She set down the small aisle at a fast pace, still taking care not to disturb any object. Reaching the gate, she opened it using the same key that had opened the outside door. On this side of the gate, things were more orderly. Statues of great former kings- and queens- of Lyonesse lined the walls. In between them, closed cabinets and cupboards held Lyonesse’s history, while chests at their feet held the most valuable crown jewels. What she needed rested in an open oak cabinet, hidden at the very back of the room.

               “Wait, Alienore, wait up! I didn’t mean it that way!” Graham said, jogging to keep up with her. Alienore heard a clang behind, telling her that her careless brother had knocked something over.

               “Try not to break any of the Crown Jewels, Graham.” Alienore said, somewhat caustically. “Now, let’s go, I want to be back before the changing of the guard!” She went on, her voice gentling.

               The sword was the first thing she found, hanging on the wall proudly. She waited as Graham took it down for her, being tall enough to actually reach it. It was magnificent, every bit as amazing as the tales that her father and Graham had told her. It seemed to call her, to meld to her hand as she picked it up. Its balance was perfect, answering to the slightest movement of her wrist. Wielding this sword was going to be an art, a joy, as the name suggested. Not having the time to properly test it out now, Alienore sheathed it in the belt at her waist with a regretful sigh. One down, one to go.

               They reached the cupboard at the same time. It had many small square shelves, ideal to store the rolled up escape plans, but harder for them to find the diary. The split up, starting at different ends, agreeing to meet the middle. They had almost met in the middle when Alienore found it, it had been inside a rolled up plan instead of hidden behind the plans as they had assumed.

               “Here it is!” She said, her voice echoing oddly in the underground cave. A piece of parchment lay at the end of the entry for May Day, 431. It was ancient, its paper yellow and brittle, far older than the diary which Alienore now held. As she was about to close the diary, the word ‘Grunhilda’ jumped out at her. She decided to read the entry before reading the prophecy, hoping that it would help shed light on the whole situation.

               “Well, what does it say?” Graham said, anxious.

               “I haven’t even started reading. I’m first going to try to read this entry to see if there’s any clues about this witch.” Alienore said.

               “Well, read it aloud! I want to know too!”

_Dear Diary,_

_Today was the Christening for little Daniel. Everybody from the Court was there, wearing their finest clothing and fakest smiles, pretending to be happy that the child of a common knight will one day be their king. I did not care when I wed Asher, nor do I care now what they think of me. But, by the Goddess, they will respect my child’s claim to the throne! On a more pleasant note, the kings and queens of the kingdoms of Albion were all able to attend, and they all brought the most delightful presents for Daniel. Several of them got him ornate wooden swords and tiny saddles, which I have no doubt he will love when he’s a little bit older. Overall, from a diplomatic standpoint, today was a success, renewing friendships with several kingdoms and having them recognize Daniel as her rightful heir._

_No, diplomacy was not what went wrong today. Knowing that the reception from the court and nobles would be chilly, I had decided to invite several high ranking sorceresses and warlocks from all over Albion. The High Priestesses, the Druid Council, the head of the Catha, even representatives from the Picts and the Celts were invited. They showered Daniel with gifts, pleased at being recognized as a powerful force on this occasion, and proffered the hand of friendship to Lyonesse. So far so good, right? Not quite. A powerful sorceress, who goes by the name of Grunhilda, was not invited. She was known to practice dark magic in her hovel in the Enchanted Mountains, and her presence would have offended many of the other guests. She arrived halfway through supper, demanding to have an explanation. When I gave her my excuses at the slight, and offered her a place at the High Table, she scoffed. Saying that such an insult would be the death of me and mine, and the country I loved, she muttered under her breath for several tense moments. The magical guest, sitting at a table to my immediate left, gasped and whispered among themselves. Apparently, they understood what this sorceress was saying. I did not, not yet. But as soon as she was done casting her wicked spell, the sorceress turned her eyes to me, the wicked gleam in them matching with her evil, gap-toothed smile._

_“Majesty, what you have done today will spell the doom of you and your line.” She said. “You have been vain and shallow, refusing to give an old woman a chance to prove her goodness to you. You could have had it all, become the most powerful kingdom on this little island. Instead, you gave it all up for these charlatans!” Her voice was becoming more high pitched, more maniac, as she pointed at the rest of the magical guests._

_“Well, hear my curse and heed it! A daughter of Olga now bears the crown, so it is only fitting that on the day I take my vengeance, another daughter of Olga will once again be Queen. On that day, none of Lyonesse’s citizen will be able to escape my arrival. Sleep shall engulf the land, a living death for all, a warning to any of what happens when you mess with Grunhilda! So I have said, and so shall it be!” And with that, she disappeared in plume of black smoke._

_And it seems there is no hope. None of the assembled, despite their great power, knew how to fix this. The Druids were the only ones that had some kind of answer to give, a rhyming prophecy that makes no sense to no one but them. I have it here, it may prove useful to some of my descendants._

_Faithfully yours,_

_Heloise, Queen of Lyonesse._

               “So all of this happened because a grumpy sorceress wasn’t invited to a Christening?” Graham asked.

               “Apparently.” Alienore said, unfolding the prophecy. She read it aloud with a strong and clear voice. At the end, she turned to Graham, asking, “Did you understand any of that?”

               “No.” Her brother answered, his look of confusion mirroring hers. “But whatever that means, it isn’t good news.”

               Together, they reread the words, trying to decipher the meaning behind the cryptic language.

_Ancient grudge shall come to light,_

_As new alliances are made,_

_And the trailing star passes over Lyonesse’s white cliffs,_

_Beware, she is awake and soon all of you shall lay dormant_

_Her vengeance terrible shall be,_

_Punishment for the vain queen and her knight,_

_Lyonesse shall pay._

_Only one may stand against her,_

_Her undoing, hidden within the body of another_

_Firstborn daughter of Lyonesse in five generations,_

_Olga’s true heir and the Silver Star_

_The Queen of Fall and her joyful sword_

_Her destiny is great indeed_

_Heartbreak and sorrow await her_

_In a land far away, she shall find Emrys and the Golden Star_

_And build the greatest kingdom_


	20. The Greatest Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'm soo freaking sorry you guys... Here is a super duper long update to hopefully make up for it!

_Love has many faces. I may look on you differently, but not with less love_

               Merlin had not realized how much Arthur cared for Gwen until the man dragged him on a fool’s quest to rescue her. Not that he did not want to rescue Gwen, he did more than anything, she was after all his closest friend in Camelot after Arthur, but what difference could the two of them make against a stronghold of Hengist’s men? A little one, that’s for sure. He had started to notice that Arthur was looking differently at Gwen ever since their trip to Ealdor three months earlier, but it wasn’t until recently, around the time of the joust, that Gwen started to return those stolen glances. Something had changed during the time that Arthur stayed with her, their relationship becoming infinitely more complicated. Merlin was happy for them, truly wonderfully happy, but he wanted to know exactly what was going on. Gwen had become almost like the sister he had never had, and he wanted to make sure she was not the one who would get hurt. Not that Arthur would hurt her intentionally, but the chances of Arthur and Gwen ever being together were next to none. So, as they set off, he waited for a good time to bring it up with Arthur.

               “Gaya berries worked. Huh.” Arthur said at the stream as they were washing the red stuff from their faces. They had just taken one of Arthur’s ‘shortcuts’ which took them through a mountain filled with wilddeoren. Merlin had not wanted to take the dangerous path, but Arthur had insisted since it would cut a day from their journey. Before they had entered, Arthur had promised Merlin that the berries would mask their scent from the giant rats. Now, Merlin turned to Arthur, outraged.

               “You didn’t know if they worked?” Merlin asked, stopping in his tracks. He was mad, fuming mad. This time, he really was turning Arthur into a toad, Uther and magic laws be damned.

               “Not for sure.” Arthur said with a sheepish smile.

               “Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that Wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?” Merlin said, resorting to sarcasm. He heard a quiet laugh in his head, signifying that the voice was awake. Great, another thing to worry about.

               “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have risked your life like that.” Arthur said, his face sincere after his short bark of laughter. He really was apologizing! This was first for Arthur, who usually did not take the time to consider what his actions did to others. Merlin wondered what could have made it click in place, and then the answer came to him in a flash of lighting. Gwen, of course. What a perfect time to bring it up.

               “Well, they do say love makes you do strange things.” He said, turning to face the stream so that Arthur would not see his smile.

               “What are you talking about?” Arthur said, a defensive note in his voice as he grabbed his wrist. He had twisted it earlier as they made their escape out of the pass. It must be aching now.

               “Why can’t you just admit your feelings for Gwen?” Merlin said, turning around to face Arthur.

               Arthur shook his head as if denying it, giving a humorless chuckle. He turned away to hide his expression from Merlin, worried that he’d give too much away.

               “It’s so obvious. A blind man could see it. Is it really that hard to admit you like her? Just say it.” Merlin said as Arthur bent down to pick his sword up. Walking further away from Merlin, he sheathed it before turning and saying,

               “I can’t! How can I admit that I think about her all the time? Or… that I care about her more than anyone? How can I admit that… I don’t know what I’ll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur said, his face more open and unguarded than any other time.

               “Why can’t you?” Merlin said. He knew that things were different for Arthur, with him being a prince and all, but being a prince never meant that you cannot fall in love. If you love someone, you should let them know, be you the prince of Camelot or a beggar in the lower town.

               “Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that… hurts too much.” Arthur said. Merlin could see the truth behind his words written in Arthur’s face, plain for anyone to read. It was a rarity for the prince to have such an open face, even with Merlin. Normally, his face was a mask, unreadable, a necessity for a future King. Now, Arthur was speaking to Merlin not as master to servant, but as friend to friend. How far they’d come in just a short year.

               “Who’s to say nothing can happen?” Merlin asked, confused.

               “My father won’t let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he’d let me marry one?”

               “You wanna marry Gwen?” Merlin asked, raising his eyebrow in surprise. Here was Arthur, the same bloke who said he’d never fall in love, saying he wanted to marry sweet little Gwen.

               “No!” Arthur said, realizing how his words sounded. “No… I don’t know… It’s all talk, and that’s all it can ever be.” His hands emphasized his confusion and dejection was evident in his voice. Arthur wished that things could be different, Merlin realized. He didn’t care that Gwen was a servant, because he recognized that she had a far nobler and kinder heart than many princesses and Queens. If he wanted Gwen, he would have her. Now, he just needed a little encouraging.

               “When you’re King, you can change that.” Merlin said, reminding Arthur that one day he would have the power to change the wrongs in Camelot. If Arthur could see past Gwen being a servant, couldn’t he see past Merlin’s magic or Lancelot not being born in nobility. The answer was yes, of course, because Arthur was different than Uther. He realized that you cannot change how you’re born, you can only change how you choose to live.

               “I can’t expect Guinevere to wait.” Arthur said, staring at the river morosely. All that he felt for Gwen was evident in the way he said her name, stretching it out and savoring each syllable.

               “If she feels as you do, she’ll wait for you.” Merlin said, sure of Gwen’s feelings. She had thought she was being discreet, looking at Arthur at meals when no one would notice, but Merlin had. She startled every time Merlin dropped Arthur’s name in conversation, blushing whenever she saw Arthur face to face. And, Merlin knew as well, once Gwen’s love was given, it was forever. That was just Gwen’s character, strong and loyal, an unmoving pillar of conviction in dark times.

               “We don’t even know if she’s still alive” Arthur said, remembering the reason behind their presence in the forest.

               “No, she is. We will find her.” Merlin was quick to reassure. He would not- could not- believe that Gwen was gone. The world would be missing one of its brightest lights then, and so he would not even hear Arthur saying otherwise.

               “Come on. We’ve got a long trek ahead.” Arthur said with renewed purpose. He strode forward with big strides, before pausing and whipping around to face Merlin. “Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.” He said, with deathly conviction in his eyes, daring Merlin to reply.

               Merlin wasn’t cowed. He had seen the man in the mornings refusing to get up, and that was when Arthur had lost his ability to scare Merlin. “You mean, more than you already do?” Merlin asked, innocently. He wasn’t cowed, and both of them knew it.

               Arthur just raised his eyes, silently challenging Merlin to do so and face the consequences. “Yeah.” He said, smiling at the shared joke. Then, he started walking again, going a few paces before Merlin even started moving.

               “We could talk about your feelings while we walk?” Merlin said with a wicked grin.

               “Shut up, Me _rl_ in!” Arthur characteristically said, not even bothering to turn around.

\-----

               The fire crackled merrily, oblivious to the gloom that hung above the foursome. Arthur and Merlin had succeeded in saving Gwen, but not without a few surprises. Instead of finding Gwen in Hengist’s dungeon, they had found her in a cage, about to be eaten by a wilddeoren alongside her would-be rescuer. Oh yes, her _other_ rescuer. Merlin had been floored to see Lancelot there, holding tightly to Gwen’s hands as they stared at their deaths. He had stopped receiving news from his friend about a month or so ago, and he had figured that Lancelot had ventured further afield than Albion. Instead, here he was, within Camelot’s own borders, saving Gwen. Lancelot looked much the same, his hair was maybe a little shorter, but overall, it was the same Lancelot who had nobly left Camelot after slaying the griffin to prove himself, although he had already done so. Merlin could tell that Arthur was as surprised to see Lancelot, but he hid it better. Jumping in the cage and tossing Lancelot a sword, they stood back to back and held off Hengist’s men as Merlin ushered Gwen into the passageway. Once the gate dropped and they stopped running for moment, things started getting awkward. Seeing the way Lancelot was caring for Gwen was enough to jog Merlin’s memories of their previous relationship. Apparently, Arthur was being particularly observant today, because he came to the same conclusion as Lancelot as both men stared at Gwen. On her part, Gwen looked a little lost and confused. Merlin imagined it was hard, since she had been completely besotted with Lancelot when he had left Camelot and he with her. However, in his absence, Gwen had come to see Arthur in a different light. Arthur had fallen in love with Gwen, unaware of her previous relationship with Lancelot. Merlin sighed, softly enough that nobody else would hear. It was going to be a long night.

               Arthur was pouting as he sat in his corner of the campfire, deliberately not looking at Gwen. Gwen looked like she wanted to go to him and explain and at the same time go sit by Lancelot, so she did neither, choosing instead to frown at a tree in the distance. Lancelot was trying to make polite conversation to cover up the awkwardness, but he wasn’t succeeding. Soon enough, both Arthur and Gwen decided to go to sleep, far enough apart for a dragon to land. Merlin moved closer to Lancelot, to be able to talk to his friend.

               “Is it true that Arthur came to rescue Gwen because ‘Morgana begged him’? He has feelings for her, doesn’t he?” Lancelot asked, his face pensive in the fire’s red light.

               “What about you? Do you have feelings for Gwen?” Merlin asked, trying to see where his friend’s mind was. The look Lancelot shot him spoke volumes. Lancelot loved Gwen, truly loved her, and for that reason, he would let Arthur have her. It was his code of honor, sense of nobility, which demanded he do what was best for Gwen, not for himself. Yet, Merlin also realized that no matter how much time passed or how much space Lancelot put between them, he would still love her as much as he did right now. His heart was breaking for his friend as Lancelot stood up, ready to say goodbye.

               “My feelings do not matter. I will not come between them. Tell Gwen...tell Gwen that she has changed me forever, but some things cannot be.” Lancelot said, brushing the dirt off of his chainmail. _NO! Don’t let him leave!_ the voice screamed in his mind. It felt as if each scream echoed in his head, pounding into his temples. Merlin clutched his head, moaning.

               “Are you okay Merlin?” Lancelot asked, his voice concerned. Merlin waved him away, straightening as the last effects of the voice’s scream wore off.

               _Why?_ He asked silently.

               _Just don’t let him leave, I’ll explain later_ the voice said, sounding a little bit more settled.

               “I’m fine” Merlin said as he wracked his brains for a good excuse to make Lancelot stay until morning. “Lancelot, please don’t leave right now. The woods are full of Hengist’s men, and you don’t even have a horse. Wait till morning. You can leave before Arthur and Gwen are even up.” Merlin pleaded.

               Lancelot seemed to consider things for a minute and then gave a short nod and a brief smile to Merlin. “Thanks, Merlin. You’re a really friend. You won’t mind if I turn in?” Lancelot asked, covering his yawn with his hand.

               “No. I’m just gonna sit here for a few more minutes.” Merlin said, returning Lancelot’s smile. He went and laid down on a spot near the horses, equally far away from Arthur and Gwen. Merlin waited for a minute until Lancelot’s breathing evened out, and then asked the voice, _Why?_

               Do you trust me, Merlin? The voice asked in return.

               _You’re a creature of magic with a direct line into my thoughts and brain, and I’ve no idea of who you are except that you seem to know the outcome of things beforehand. Obviously, no._ Merlin said.

               _Yet I have not once steered you wrong_

               _Except with the Druid boy_ Merlin shot back

               _You will one day regret not taking my advice in regards to that boy_ the voice said. _But that is not the point, if I told you to do something that went against all your instincts now, would you?_

               _Depends on what it is. About you explain everything, and for once leave out all the cryptic, rhyming fluff._

               _I cannot tell you absolutely everything, Merlin_ the voice said, calling him by his name for the first time.

               _Cannot or will not?_

               _Cannot, or the very thing I am trying to prevent may still yet come to pass. Patience, and all shall be revealed. But on this case, I can tell you enough. The only thing I must omit is how I came by this knowledge._

               _Fine, start talking._

               _You must not let Lancelot leave because he and Gwen belong together. If he leaves, Gwen will eventually pick Arthur and that you must not allow to happen. It is not that Gwen and Arthur do not love each other, because they do very much, it is that they are not soul mates. What-_ the voice started, but Merlin had to interrupt.

               _What do you mean they are not soul mates? I have seen the way they look at each other. Nobody could love another that much and not be their soul mate_. Merlin said, angry on his friends’ behalf.

               _They could have very easily have been soul mates the voice said if they had fallen in love before Gwen and Lancelot. Instead, a part of Gwen’s heart will always belong to the knight. And the knight, too noble and honorable by far, will let her slip right through his fingers if you do not intervene._

               _What about Arthur? Who is his soul mate?_

_She has not yet come the voice said._

_But who is she?_

_That is not yet for you to know. Remember, patience. When she arrives, you will know her, and all shall be revealed._

_Including your identity?_

_That too._ The voice said in a tone that Merlin could swear it was smiling, where it was.

               _What shall I do then?_

_You must tell Gwen that she cannot let the knight leave without acknowledging their relationship._

_And how do I do that? I can’t go up to her and say the voice in my head told me you should pick Lancelot!_

_No, you must not. There is only one way I can see. You must reveal your magic to her and say it came to you in a prophetic dream._

_NO! I cannot reveal my magic to Gwen!_

_She’ll accepted it. She’s your friend and she loves you very much._

_How do you know that?_

_She did once before_ the voice said, recoiling in horror as soon as it realized what it had let slip.

               Merlin got up, only to sit right back down. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t cause Arthur so much misery once he had finally found someone he could love. _Are you sure there is no other way?_

_No, none at all._

_But how can whoever Arthur loves matter so much?_

               The same images that had flashed in his head when he had gone to rescue Arthur from Sophia reappeared. This time, he could clearly make out Arthur in each of them, until he realized the lifeless blue eyes at the end where his friend’s _. It only matters if fulfilling your destiny matters to you._

               _But how can Gwen be the cause of that horror?_ Merlin asked, surprised that his sweet friend could be behind those images of war and bloodshed.

               _Camelot has many traitors, but Gwen isn’t one of them. Gwen is not the cause of this, she is merely the pawn in fate’s chess game, same as you and I. If one player is missing, the game is harder to win. If Gwen and Arthur’s relationship were to continue, that player would be missing, and it would be a key player, making it impossible to win. That is why Gwen must pick Lancelot._

               And finally, Merlin understood. Arthur’s soul mate would not come to Camelot if he was already engaged or married to Gwen, and without her, Arthur and him could never build the Albion they were destined. That is what the voice was trying to tell him.

               _Fine. I’ll talk to Gwen, but it does not rest easy on my conscience._

               _I know that. It does not rest easy on mine either, but it will be for the best. Thank you, Merlin. I promise that soon everything will be clearer._ The voice said, before returning to whatever place it inhabited when not speaking to Merlin.

               Merlin got up and added the last of the kindling to the dying fire. Looking over at Gwen’s sleeping form, he figured it was better to do this now rather later. He silently walked over to her, careful not to awake either of the sleeping knights, but they were dead to the world.

               “Gwen.” He softly whispered as he shook her awake.

               “What is it, Merlin?” Gwen said, sleepily. Like any servant, she had mastered the art of being alert the moment she woke up. As she realized that nobody was attacking their campsite, she laid back down as if to go back to sleep.

               “We need to talk.” Merlin said, nodding in first Arthur’s then Lancelot’s direction. Gwen took it to mean the whole awkward situation they found themselves in, and stood up, gathering the skirt of the too-long dress in one hand. The dress was clearly Morgana’s, apart from being far too long for the petite gown, the greens and purples that went so well with Morgana’s fair skin and raven hair looked out of place on Gwen.

               Gwen nodded, brushing off some of the dirt that had been caught on the dress when she laid down to sleep. She had been waiting to get Merlin alone so that she could talk to him, ask for his advice. She trusted Merlin more than anyone in Camelot now that her father was gone. Actually, it had been Tom’s death that had driven home to her just how dear Merlin was to her, what a trusted friend he was. She had been all alone, her parents both gone and her brother off on his own, and had felt so lonely on her first night back at her house. It felt so huge, so empty without anyone else sharing the small space, the outside forge empty and silent. She had been about to break down and cry again when Merlin had shown up with a basket from the kitchens and said he was there to keep her company. And that was exactly what he did, sitting at the kitchen table with her and listening to her memories of her family, her deepest thoughts and her grief. He didn’t really talk, just listened and comforted her whenever it was appropriate. He was the first person in Camelot, apart from Sir Leon who had grown up with her, whom she told about Elyan, her brother. It was on the same night, as she waited for sleep to come to her and saw Merlin’s huddled form by the fire that she had realized that she had not one brother, but two, one by blood and one by friendship. Now, stuck between Lancelot and Arthur as she was, she desperately wanted to hear Merlin’s opinion- and his help- on how to get herself out of this mess.

               “Come, we’ll grab some firewood while we talk” Merlin said, steering Gwen towards the dark forest. He wanted to make sure that none of their conversation was overheard by either of the sleeping men, especially if he did have to reveal his magic to Gwen as the voice had predicted. Gwen followed his lead, walking quietly besides him as they walked away from the campsite, further than was strictly necessary to just gather firewood. They reached a small clearing with a fallen log, on which they sat down.

               “So…” Gwen said, unsure of how to start the conversation.

               “So…Quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself in, my friend.” Merlin said, smiling his goofy grin to take the sting out of his words.

               “I had some help…” Gwen muttered, not denying it.

               “Are you alright Gwen? Did Hengist’s men bother you?” Merlin asked, remembering the harrowing experience Gwen had gone through not twelve hours before.

               “I’m fine, I think. They left me mostly alone, thanks to Lancelot. I just can’t wait till I’m in Camelot again, thirteen feet of solid stone walls between me and the outside world.” Gwen said, shivering in her light dress. Merlin took off his jacket, warm though it was, and put it over her shoulders. His mother had always taught him to be a gentleman after all. “Thanks” Gwen murmured, clutching the warm jacket closer to her body to absorb the heat.

               They fell quiet, both of them thinking about the same thing but both of them too shy to approach it. “Lancelot and Arthur…” “What are you…” Both of them said at the same time. Looking at each other, they burst out laughing. Then, Gwen made a motion with her hand, indicating that Merlin should go first.

               Deep breath, this is Gwen he reminded himself. “What are you going to do about, erhm, well Lancelot and Arthur?” He asked.

               “I don’t know.” Gwen said, hiding her face with her hands. “I mean, I was sure that I loved Lancelot when he left, and the more time we spent apart, the more in love I fell with the memories of him, of us. Then, we I saw him again in Hengist’s dungeons, all of it came rushing back to the surface. He was my knight in shining armor, come to rescue me without my asking, and he would have given his life to save mine back there. And then, there’s Arthur. I don’t know what exactly I feel for him, I’m scared to put a name to it. I mean, he’s the Prince of Camelot, and what am I? A lowly maidservant, the daughter of a blacksmith. There is nothing that can come from it, both of us have to know it, yet there is something small and fragile between us, like a flower in the middle of the winter, which could bloom to be something great, something beautiful. It’s like, if I take a risk and admit that I’m falling in love with him, I would be diving in head-first, recklessly, and with no guarantee of anything catching me at the bottom. On one side, something glorious and epic might come out of it, but on the other, I might waste my whole life for a man. Lancelot is safe, a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, while Arthur is pulling me in, deeper beneath the waves.”

               “It sounds to me like you love both of them.” Merlin said impartially.

               “But how is that possible? I can’t love two people at once!” Gwen said, her voice higher than usual to indicate her distress.

               “Gwen” Merlin said, putting a calming hand on her arm, “of course you can love two people at once. Just because you love Arthur and Lancelot doesn’t mean you stopped loving your father, your mother, Elyan, Morgana, me…”

               “But that’s different! I mean, I love you and Morgana like the two siblings I’ve never had, and Elyan and my parents are my family. But that’s different from what’s going on there.” She said, pointing behind her shoulders towards the direction of the campsite.

               “It’s not that different. You give your heart to the people you love, Gwen. I think you care deeply for both Arthur and Lancelot, and all we need to do now is find out which one you care for in a romantic way.” He said. This wasn’t going so badly. Maybe Merlin wouldn’t have to show Gwen his magic after all.

               “Right. Now how do I do that?”

               Merlin shrugged, laughing. “I have no idea. It is your choice, not mine. I’m not the one who’s in love with them, ewww why would I be in love with Arthur? Why would anyone love Arthur?” Merlin said.

               Gwen punched him in the arm, giving him a glare. “He’s not as bad as you make out and you know it. You two are as thick as thieves and would gladly die for each other, in fact, you have both tried to do so. Be serious now, please.” She said as Merlin rubbed his arm with a soft ‘Ow.’ She had a mean right hook.

               “I am serious. I cannot make this choice for you Gwen, it is yours and only yours to make. All I know is both of them love you very much, but only you can decide who can make you happy for perhaps the rest of your life.” Merlin said.

               Gwen nodded and remained quiet for what seemed an eternity. She studied her hands as she thought, turning them over and over in her lap, a testament to her troubled thoughts. Merlin couldn’t bear to be still, so he got up and started playing with a pebble, kicking it back and forth.

               “Merlin, if you were me, what would you do?” Gwen asked in a voice barely above a whisper after what must have been at least an hour to Merlin, but was in fact just a few minutes.

               He returned to the log, sitting by her. Merlin was shivering due to the cold night, but was careful not to let Gwen see it. No need for her to feel guilty for having his jacket when she had all of this to deal with. “I think you love both of them very much. Lancelot, even though he’s currently exiled from Camelot, would be the safer choice. I’m pretty sure that Arthur is going to knight him- again- when he becomes king, so then you’d be a lady, a knight’s wife. That’s already quite a climb for the daughter of a blacksmith, and people are going to hate you for it, spread rumors and what not. Yet, were you to pick Arthur, he would heaven and Earth until you were his queen. That is unheard of, somebody going from serving girl to queen. I think- No, I know that you would be the best queen that Camelot could ask for, ruling justly and wisely, caring for the people. Maybe you weren’t born for the role, but there is no one I could think better suited for it. But if mild adversity awaits you for becoming the wife a knight, think of what would happen if you were to become the wife of a king! And this is just the rational side of things. I do not know what you feel exactly for each of them, apart from the things you tell me.”

               “Uther would never approve of me as Arthur’s mistress, and certainly not as his queen. And his mistress I will not be. I may not have the honor of men, the knight’s code you all try to abide by- even you, Merlin- but I do have my kind of honor, a woman’s honor. That I will not give up for the love of any man, beggar or king.” Gwen said resolutely.

               “The age of Uther is ending, Arthur’s star rising. Soon enough, it will not matter of what Uther approves, it will be what Arthur approves. And he wants you as his queen, he will get you as his queen, annoying prat that he is. The only thing that would stop him would be your refusal.”

               “What if I don’t want to refuse? I want to be his wife, but I’m not sure I want to be his queen. I’m not Morgana, trained from birth to be a queen, to wear fine things and smile politely at the rudest guests, to command armies and forge treaties. This would be so much easier if he was just a simple knight like Lancelot! Then, I’d only have my own feelings to contend with, instead of a whole kingdom.” Gwen said, frustrated.

               “There is no one, Gwen, that could say aught against you. You are kind and just, brave and loyal, honorable and gentle, wise and responsible. You may not have been raised from birth to be a queen, but I think that you were always destined to be one.” Merlin said.

               “So you’re saying that I should go with Arthur?”

               “NO!” Merlin cried. He had gotten caught up in the discussion, picturing himself in Gwen’s shoes, that he had forgotten his purpose in this discussion. “No, I think that you should pick Lancelot.”

               “But you were just saying that you thought I was always destined to be a queen?” Gwen said, confused at Merlin’s turnaround. Merlin sighed, knowing that he would have to reveal his darkest secret in order to explain to her why she had to pick Lancelot.

               “Yes, but- Look, Gwen, there is something about me that you don’t know, something that only three people in this whole world know. It’s my deepest, darkest secret, and it has to do with this-this whole mess.” Merlin said.

               Gwen was taken aback. Merlin, her transparent, loyal friend, had a secret from her? The same person who could not lie, not even to save himself a trip to the stocks? She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it was possibly as bad as he was making it sound. “I’m sure it isn’t that bad, Merlin, and that you had your reasons for not telling me sooner. Does Arthur know?”

               Merlin snorted at that, getting up to find a couple of sticks to levitate in order to show her. “No, but Lancelot does. The only other people that know are Gaius and my mother.”

               Gwen was slightly surprised that Arthur did not know something about Merlin, since they were so close. The two of them were like shadows around Camelot. Spot one, and the other would soon follow close behind. Merlin was the constant, the deep brown jacket behind Arthur’s swishing cloak. Neither of them really realized it, but they relied heavily on each other. The fact that Lancelot would know Merlin’s secret before Arthur was weird. While Merlin and Lancelot were good friends, Arthur and Merlin were brothers, separated only by the gap in their stations, not that they let it matter too much in everyday life. “So, what is your darkest secret?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood.

               Merlin turned around to face her, his face grave. His eyes, normally clear, had become grey, the color of the sea during a storm. “Gwen, I-I have magic.”

_To be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know how to apologize for the incredibly long time between updates! I promise they will be more regular from now on, as I've gotten a bunch of the story written... That said, I'm going through a rough patch with inspiration, so they might not all be as long this one. Thank you so much for sticking with me and this story and as always, I appreciate your comments and reviews.


	21. A Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still reading... Thank you!

**_Chapter Twenty- A Crown_ **

_The symbol of thy royalty. A crown to wear in grace and beauty; as is thy right, and royal duty._

               The bells rang midnight, but the huddled figure paid them no notice. Alienore had long since become deaf to anything but the quiet, almost silent now breathing of her father, blind to anything but the slow rise and fall of his frail chest. Graham and Elaine had fallen asleep sometime during the evening, exhausted by the seventy hour vigil. But not Alienore. She had not been able to save her father, despite riding at break neck speed with the best physicians in the kingdom, but she would be with him until the very end. Even if he wouldn’t know, due to the bleeding inside his brain caused by his fall down the stairs, she would be there, awake and alert when he breathed his last. It was sheer willpower that kept her awake now, opening her drooping eyelids every time.

               “Father. Don’t go, please, not yet. I’m not ready to step into your shoes, to lead a kingdom, to go on without you. Please. Stay with me.” She whispered heartbreakingly for the millionth time. No matter how many times she repeated the words, she knew that they were futile, a mere wish rather than her request. Her father was fading fast, wouldn’t even last the hour at this rate, and everything she had been dreading since her arrival to the past three years before was coming true. The moment her father breathed the last she would be passed on the mantle of kingship, a burden she would have to bear for the rest of her life here. And it would be a lonely task, sitting on the throne, above even Elaine and Graham. Gone would be afternoons wasted just talking and laughing, merry evenings around the fire, spontaneous visits to Mithian, even her swordplay would become a rare treat rather than a daily occurrence. Such was the life of a monarch, answering the call of duty. Duty was something her father had instilled in her ever since she was old enough to understand, and her duty to the crown came first and foremost, something that she would always honor in his memory.

               “Venetia, my darling…” Her father mumbled. He had been muttering all afternoon and into the evening, but now had fallen quiet. Earlier, his fevered mutterings had been unintelligible, simple noises, but his latest cry snapped Alienore wide awake. He was calling out for her mother, long since dead. She remembered very little of her, since she had died when Alienore had been three and Graham two, giving birth to Elaine. Her father barely spoke of her, and had had most of her images removed from the castle. The only image of her remained in their bedchamber, in front of the bed. Most times, it was hidden by a curtain, but over the years, Alienore had caught her dad staring at it sadly, his love and grief written all over his face. The portrait showed a woman, no older than her mid-thirties, which looked like an older version of Elaine, happiness in her face as she sat by Alienore’s father. Her face was small, angular with high cheekbones, sharing the same pale gold hair as her youngest daughter, and the same odd mix of features that reminded Alienore of the elves from _The Lord of the Rings_. The only resemblance between Alienore and her mother was the eyes, those sky blue eyes that were so similar to her mother’s and yet different. She had always wanted to know more about the mysterious woman that had given birth to her, her curiosity fueled by the small tidbits of gossip and tales she heard from servants and people who had known her. The one person who could have answered all her questions was the one person that she could never ask, since her father refused to talk about her. He had loved his wife so much that people said he had aged twenty years in the day of her death. A part of him had died with her, and he had buried his grief so deeply, locked his loss so tightly, that he had withdrawn completely into himself, resembling his former self only with his children. That was how much he had loved Venetia, and that was the kind of Alienore wanted for herself, even though she knew it was so very rare for people of her station.

               “You have come to take me with, then? It has been so long, so long… You should see the children… They all remind me of you so very much… Elaine, she has the looks of you, even though you only got to have the briefest glimpse of her… Graham, he has your sweet temperament and I have to catch myself sometimes because it is like your voice is speaking through his lips… But Alienore is the one who reminds me of you the most… She has that quiet strength and confidence that always made you so formidable…And of course, your eyes… Venetia, I wish you got to see our children… You would have been as proud of them as I am…”

               Graham and Elaine had awoken at the sound of their father’s voice, and now they all waited for him to speak more, to continue. But, his breathing became more labored, and his chest rose once more, twice, and then was still.

               “No, no, no! Father, please!” Alienore said, shaking her dad’s shoulder as the first tears started streaming down her face. “No, please…” She whispered as she buried her head. She could hear Elaine’s sobs and Graham’s quiet tears, and she raised her head. Her siblings were grieving, looking more lost than she had ever seen them. They were now her responsibility.

               She stood up, bringing her father’s hand to her face and kissing it. Then, for the first time since her arrival, she let it go. She bent down and kissed her father’s cheek one more time, and whispered ‘I love you’ hoping that his ghost was still close enough to hear it. Then, she gathered both of her siblings in her arms, and only then broke down, her shoulders shaking in her own silent grief as she held Elaine with one arm and Graham with the other, her head buried in their shoulders. The three siblings quietly shared their grief, before collecting themselves and calling in the guards. In public, they could only show strength, an impassive face, but here, in the dark bedchamber, they could grieve for the father they’d lost before grieving for the king with the rest of the people.

\----

 _One Month Later_ …

               September 10th. In Seattle, where she’d lived before all of this craziness had started, it meant the start of nine months of rain. The sky would be overcast, making the whole day seem gray. Many people did not like it, saying it did not hold a candle to the beauty of summer, but Alienore loved those days. All she wanted to do was sit by her window wrapped up in her old blanket and read as she sipped some homemade hot chocolate. That was her treat if September 10th fell on a weekend. If instead, she had school that day, she would usually invite friends over afterschool and they would have a sleepover, watching movies and laughing over silly things well into the night. However, her life in Lyonesse was much different. Here, the only true hint of fall on September10th were the trees, which had already turned gorgeous shades of yellows, reds, and oranges. The sky remained the same light blue as Alienore’s eyes and the sun still shone high far into the evening. This was one of the few days a year- the Summer and Winter Solstice being the others- were she was truly free from royal obligation. She usually spent the day with her siblings, enjoying their company, before attending a banquet and making a public appearance. It was like a breath of fresh air in her otherwise busy schedule. She always looked forward to the day, anxious for the day of freedom and excited, like any other person, for her birthday.

               Of course, it was also one of the most bittersweet days of the year for Alienore. It was a day that reminded her of what her life could have been had she chosen a different path, an easier path perhaps. She never regretted her choice, not even during her worse moments, but she did wonder what it would have been like had she given Merlin a different answer. This year was the birthday she felt more keenly than any other since her first in the past, when she turned sixteen, because she was turning eighteen. In both worlds, she would be considered an adult tomorrow. Yet, what a difference a millennium and half made. Had she stayed, tomorrow would have been a celebration of her maturity, her stepping stone in life on her own. She would have been looking forward to college, to living alone for the first time in her life, to starting fresh, to branch out and try new things. Instead, her eighteen birthday, just a day away, was going to be also the day she was crowned queen. She came to her majority tomorrow, and with her father’s passing barely a month ago, she would take official leadership of Lyonesse. In many ways, it was similar to what she would have experienced had she remained, because this would still be her first foray in the world of adults. Only, she wouldn’t have the luxury of making mistakes and learning from them. Her mistakes could mean ruin for her country, war, famine. It was a lot of pressure for an eighteen year old, and yet it was a pressure that had been on her shoulders every day for the past three years.

               From her window, she saw one of her scouts hurrying into the palace to report that the first of the guests for tomorrow’s coronation had arrived. Alienore moved away from the window to check that her appearance was in order. Her hair was loose down her back, curling slightly, with a braided headband pulling some of the longer strands away from her face. Her eyes were clear and blue, schooling themselves for a day spent exchanging flowery words and praises with other monarchs. Her gown was one of the several new ones that had been made for the occasion. It wasn’t as rich as the one she would wear tomorrow, but it still reflected her status. The over gown was a dark teal, cutting away at the skirt to show an under gown of a pale blue, embroidered with silver thread at the hem. The sleeves cut away at the elbow to show bell sleeves of the same color. The gown was belted at the waist with an intricate silver belt, which held the crest of Lyonesse at the center link. It was spotless, thanks to Brownen’s tireless efforts that morning. She was ready to go downstairs and meet her guests.

               All of the kingdoms of Albion had been invited, lest any king suffer a snub at the lack of invitation at such an important occasion such as the coronation of a monarch. Cenred and Odin, the most bloodthirsty monarchs, had refused the invitation, but everyone else was arriving today. The palace had been a flurry of work during the last month, with the cooks preparing enough food for all the visiting monarchs, carpenters building small pavilions to house the extra guests, and the people excited for the celebration. She had overseen every small detail, from the flowers decorating the Great Hall to the menu served at the coronation banquet. Alienore wanted this to go off without a hitch, because it would be her first act as monarch. So, as she made her way to the front steps of the castle with the court, she was slightly nervous. She had no idea who would be riding through the gates, whether it be a friendly monarch like Mithian and her father or someone like Caerleon and his queen, who would have to be treated carefully during their visit. Just because their countries were currently at peace did not mean that all was well; in fact, a sense of unease remained with the warrior kings that had won their kingdoms through war rather than inheritance. The court was wearing its finest, its knights resplendent in silver cloaks, their ladies on their arms arrayed in various shades of blue and silver, the colors of Lyonesse. Elaine was there, on the second step from the bottom, wearing a teal gown with hanging sleeves. She smiled and gave a small wave as Alienore passed by her, which Alienore returned behind her back. She assumed her spot, alone on the bottommost step, arranging her face in her polite mask of welcome. Even though one side of her still doubted her capability to be Queen- and would probably always do so- another part of her was confident, more confident than she thought could be possible. Part of it had to do with her father’s words as she sat by his deathbed, tru,e, but the majority came out of the people around her. Elaine, Graham, Brownen, the servants, Sirs Aidan, Bennett, Hamilton, the knights, all people who had known her since she was a small child, believed that she could do it. Their belief in her, despite her obvious faults and detractors, is what gave her the boost of confidence that she needed to stand there and smile politely as the first riders arrived in the courtyard.

               A dark purple flag with a roaring bear on a teal and yellow stem flew high from the lead rider. He was followed by a grizzled man with honey blond hair and a rugged face and a slighter girl with platinum blond hair and a small frown on her face. Alienore was slightly relieved to not have to deal with one of the more difficult delegations right off the bat, but rather a familiar face.

               “King Olaf, Lady Vivian, welcome to Lyonesse!” She said, stretching out her arms in welcome as her guests dismounted.

               The man smiled jovially, despite his rough look. King Olaf could have probably joined Uther and Caerleon as a warrior king, because he too had won his throne by war, except for the fact that his war had been against his usurping brother. Combined with the fact that his daughter Vivian would one day find herself in the same position as Alienore found herself now, so the relationship between Mercia and Lyonesse had always been friendly. Alienore and Vivian were another story, though. “Lady Alienore, it is good to see you again!” King Olaf said, taking her outstretched hands and placing a kiss on her ring bearing the seal of her house.

               “Ugh, I just hope you’ve given me a room with a bigger closet this time” His daughter said, somewhat less graciously as she came to stand beside her father. She was pretty in a spoiled princess kind of a way, the kind of person that Alienore would have never been friends with in another life. Yet, she would one day be the queen of Mercia, an equal to Alienore, and so she turned her most gracious smile on her.

               “Yes, of course, Lady Vivian. We have built a special pavilion for your delegation. Let my maid show you.” Alienore said, beckoning Brownen over with an apologetic smile. Lady Vivian was notorious for mistreating her maids, so much so that she had trouble finding new ones now days. “It is really good to see you again!” Alienore said as Vivian brushed past her.

               “My daughter is tired from the long road.” King Olaf said, shooting her retreating back a fond look. Vivian had been spoiled since she was a young girl due to her lack of siblings and being motherless, like Alienore.

               “I understand. You will be tired as well. One of my knights will show you your rooms and take care of your knights. I hope to see you and Lady Vivian at the banquet tonight.” Alienore said, noting the signals from the walls that said somebody else was approaching. She saw a way to move the Mercian party along, and so she took it.

               “Yes, of course. I shall see you tonight.” King Olaf said, sending his men towards stables with a nod of his head. He started up to the stairs, following a manservant, before pausing at the front doors. Turning back to face Alienore through the path cleared by the court, he said: “Lady Alienore, I am sorry about your father. He was a good man and a good king.” He said with a grave face, a departure from his cheery expression just a moment ago.

               “Thank you.” Alienore said with a small nod. A cloud passed over her face as she remembered the sad event that was the catalyst for today’s and tomorrow’s events. She was, however, able to quickly shake off her grief. Elaine placed a small hand on her shoulder, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. Alienore turned a grateful smile to her sister for her quiet support. That smile soon disappeared as she saw the sky blue and black lion of Caerleon. Its king, with its tough face and warrior stance took quick stances to where Alienore was standing.

               “Lady Alienore.” He said, not giving her the chance to welcome him.”

               “My lord, welcome to you and your Queen to Lyonesse.” She said. While any major hostilities between their two kingdoms had occurred between Caerleon’s father’s reign and Alienore’s grandfather’s reign, there was still plenty of tensions in the current day.

               A woman in her early forties dismounted and came to stand beside her husband. She was striking, despite the cares of her life written in her face. Her red hair was beautiful, and her olive eyes held a steeliness in them that told Alienore she was not a woman to be messed with. She did not flaunt her status like Vivian did before her, wearing only a simple silver circlet on her forehead and furs to ward off the chills of her home country. Alienore liked her immediately, despite having just met her. She extended her hand, saying: “Lady Alienore, it is an honor to meet you.”

               “And I, Queen Annis. I hope you and your husband will enjoy your stay. Let one of my servants show you your rooms, I know you must be tired after your long journey. I hope we’ll have a chance to talk more at the banquet tonight.” She said, turning the corners of her mouth up in a parting smile. The Caerleon knights soon cleared out of the courtyard, leaving Alienore and the court of Lyonesse alone. There was a clear outtake of breath as the court relaxed, and soon low thrum of whispered conversations arose in the courtyard. Alienore, with a quick glance to check that no riders could be seen on the horizon, climbed on step up to talk to Elaine.

               “Ali, you look so pretty!” Elaine said, fingering the fine fabric of Alienore’s gown. It had been a gift from some of the kingdoms beyond the sea, who had sent it with some of their merchants. More of it was used to make the coronation gown that she would wear tomorrow, but some of the smaller pieces had been used for today’s gown. It was truly fit for a Queen.

               “And you’re looking very grown up and very much like Mother!” Alienore said, thinking that in Elaine’s green dress, she looked exactly like their mother’s portrait in their father’s bedroom. Despite it being the monarch’s bedroom, she really could not bring herself to move away from her room, into what she would always think as her father’s bedroom. She had had the servants seal up the room the day after his death, and her only change since that day was to move the portrait of her parents smiling to her own room. But today, standing there in the sunlight of the courtyard, she really did look like their mother in their portrait, far older than her fifteen years. She had grown in the three years that Alienore had known her, and only now did that catch up to her, taking her by surprise.

               “Really? You really think so?” Elaine said, pleased shock all over her face.

               “Yea” Alienore said, brushing a loose curl away from her face. She had to hide a stray tear, but this time, maybe for the first time that month, it was one of happiness. Instead, she glanced at the empty spot where Graham would have normally stood. He was out on a patrol today that was running late. Alienore dearly hoped that he would be there at least for tomorrow’s festivities, but also hoped that the patrol had not run into trouble. Graham had been a rock this past month, helping Alienore with the transition from regent to Queen, and at the same time, grieving with her.

               “Well, I know that it is you that she would have been proud of” Elaine said, flicking a piece of a leaf off of Alienore’s sleeve.

               “Don’t say that! She would be plenty proud of you too!” Alienore said.

               “Why would they be? I have done so little, and you’ve done so much!”

               “Don’t say that, Laine! You’re little, you’ve still got so much time to do great things!” Alienore said.

               Elaine just gave her a wistful look, as if she didn’t really believe her words. “That may be, but today and tomorrow is your day to shine, Alienore.”

               “Thanks, Laine. You know I could not do this without you or Graham, right?” Alienore asked, noticing a silence falling over the court.

               “Of course.” Elaine said, as Alienore turned around to face the new incoming delegation.

               The figure riding far ahead of the main party was recognizable not just by the yellow and brown standards behind her, but by the disarrayed hair and fine seat. Elena, Princess of Gawant, reached the courtyard just moments later.

               “Elena.” Alienore said, real affection in her voice as she hurried forward to hug the girl. If Alienore was considered a little bit of a rebel, Elena was a total wild child. She also was the best horsewoman in all of Albion, a passion she did not get to indulge in as much as she wished. Her wild child appearance was most evident in her hair, which appeared to never stay in its arrangement for longer than five minutes before tumbling down in loose waves. It gave her a kind of a childlike quality that was endearing, and, being of an age with both Alienore and Mithian, they had been as close as people living so far away could be.

               “Alienore. Wow, you look so-so-so grown-up!” Elena said, hugging the other girl tightly before stepping back and admiring her.

               “And you! Is it possible you’ve gotten even faster on that horse of yours?” Alienore marveled, patting her on the arm as the rest of her party finally rode into the courtyard.

               “I do not know how she does it, in truth. It seems as if her horses grow wings, my lady Alienore.” Lord Godwin said as he dismounted, putting an affectionate hand on his daughter’s shoulder as he walked by her. Lord Godwin was an older man, having married later in life, with kind sparkling eyes and a shock of white hair. Elena had to hide a small smile at her father’s compliment. Since Elena was Godwin’s only child, he encouraged some her wild child behaviors, such as horseback riding, even if it wasn’t proper for a princess.

               “I think it is a testament to her skill” Alienore said, smiling warmly at Lord Godwin. He stepped up at kissed both her cheeks in a very fatherly way that caused her to smile sadly, remembering her father’s death.

               “Indeed. Alienore, I must say, I’m very sorry about your father. He was a good friend and a true gentleman.” Godwin said, staring her straight in the eyes.

               “Thank you, Lord Godwin.” She said smiling up at him. Without words, they both shared the grief for the person that King Edric had been behind the king, the friend and father. Then, Alienore gave him a tentative smile. She did not want today and tomorrow, a supposedly festive day, ruined by her grief. She had grieved privately, but now it was time to move on, for her family’s, country’s and her own sake, no matter how many remainders of him she had today. “May I show you and your party your chambers?”

               “Yes, yes, of course.” Godwin said, nodding genially. He waved his knights toward the direction of the stables, knowing their location from earlier visits.

               “Elena, I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk and catch up later” Alienore said, watching her friend climbing up the stairs. Elena stumbled in typical fashion, held on her feet only by the quick hands of her nurse. She smiled and nodded, giving a small wave in return. Alienore returned the wave, as she returned to her place on the steps. It was starting to get warmer as the sun got higher in the sky. Midday was quickly approaching, and its heat was felt by the knights with their heavy chainmail and the ladies in their fine velvets and silks. She fanned herself with her hand, hoping that the last two delegations would be here soon. Only Nemeth’s- the closest kingdom with only a two day journey- and Camelot’s- the kingdom furthest away with a three week journey- delegations.

               Surprisingly, she did not have long to wait at all. After a few more minutes, a cloud of dust was visible beyond the wall, and soon both the red and yellow dragon of Camelot and the green and white colors of Nemeth. They rode in together, in two separate columns. The temperature in the courtyard immediately cooled by several degrees. The two countries had been arguing over the land of Gedref, between their two northern borders, for decades. Aware of that, Alienore went first to greet the Camelot party, knowing that Mithian and her father would understand. It was the benefit of their long standing friendship.

               “King Uther Pendragon, welcome to Lyonesse!” She said to the hard faced, greying man in front of her. He was wearing a leather outfit that was just one step shy of chainmail and a hard golden crown. His harsh face didn’t break even as he gave her a small smile in acknowledgement of her greeting.

               “I thank you, Lady Alienore. It has been many years since I last stood in this same courtyard, myself just a young king, yet I find that not much has changed at all. Your country remains as resplendent as I remembered.”

               “A genuine compliment about my country is worth a thousand untrue ones about my sorry self, so I thank you very much, King Uther.” Alienore said, cracking a genuine smile,

               “Lady Alienore, you do yourself an injustice I must say. You are every bit as lovely as your beloved Lyonesse, I must admit.” King Uther replied, in complete earnestness. It would have sounded weird to get such a flowery compliment from a man that was as old as her father, but after three years of being in the past, ruling, it was as commonplace as a normal conversation. They thought that complimenting her would help them gain her favor, and thus everyone tried their hand at it. But, as she told Uther, she loathed false compliments.

               “I thank you kindly, then. And I am sure that your Camelot is equally as lovely, from all of the tales I’ve heard of it.”

               “Well, I do think so, but it may be that I’m just prejudiced. You must come and visit yourself sometime soon and be the judge of it. Then you can also meet my son and heir, Arthur.” Uther said.

               “Yes, indeed. I think that would be lovely. But I’ve been remiss in my duties as a host. Let me introduce to you my sister, Lady Elaine of Lyonesse, Countess of Astolat.” Alienore said, waving her sister forward. All the other rulers had been to Lyonesse before, but not the Camelot party.

               Elaine stepped forward, smiling shyly. “It is nice to meet you, King Uther. I have heard many tales about your victories.”

               “Enchanting, Lady Elaine. I must say, you are the very picture of your lovely mother.” Uther said, nodding in Elaine’s direction. As he spoke, a young woman stepped up to stand beside him, having finished her conversation with a plain dressed, pretty young woman. The girl she was talking with was wearing a sunny yellow dress and a bright smile. Her honey colored skin and chocolate brown eyes were sweet and kind, and as she smiled her goodbye to the other young woman. While the young woman who now stood next to Uther was clearly nobility, the girl in the yellow dress was clearly a servant. Yet, the friendship between them was as real and tangible as if they had been the same rank.

               “May I, in return, present the Lady Morgana of the House of Gorlois, my ward.” Uther said, waving Morgana forward. She had porcelain white skin, raven black hair, and piercing green eyes. She was beautiful, but coldly beautiful, not the sunshine beauty of her friend or the ethereal beauty of Elaine, but just cold and beautiful. Her flinty green eyes were sharp, but were immediately softened by the bright, genuine smile that filled her face with kindness.

               “It’s lovely to meet you both.” She said, making a small curtsy.

               “Likewise, Lady Morgana. I’m sure we’ll be great friends.” Alienore said, smiling back. She took an immediate liking to Morgana, despite a part of her warning of the girl’s destiny. This had to be the same Morgana that Merlin had told her of, the one that would go down in ignominy as Morgan La Fay. Yet, looking at her, she couldn’t imagine it. The girl was just too nice to actually be the evil witch that would bring down Camelot.

               “But, how remiss of me! I forget that you have endured a long journey to get here and keep you waiting in my courtyard! Please, come on in and refresh yourself. We’ll have plenty of time to talk tonight at the banquet.” Alienore said, waving Brownen over to lead the Camelot party over to their rooms.

               “Till tonight then, Lady Alienore.” King Uther said, echoed by Lady Morgana.

               Waiting until they entered the double doors, Alienore took a deep breath. Just one more welcome, and then she was free till tonight.

               “Ahh” Alienore said, suddenly finding a body launching itself at her and holding her very tightly.

               “Alienore!!” Mithian said, squeezing the breath out of the other girl.

               “Can’t…breathe…face turning…blue…Mithian, please!”

               “Oh sorry!” Mithian said, only releasing her friend the slightest bit. “It is just _so_ good to see you!”

               “You too!” Alienore squealed back, throwing her own arms around Mithian. The two girls held on tightly for a few seconds before stepping back to admire one another.

               A throat cleared behind them and Alienore saw King Rodor, Mithian’s father, standing behind his daughter with a kindly smile. Mithian released Alienore with a clear look that said they would talk later and went up a further step to hug Elaine.

               “Alienore, my dear.” King Rodor said, enfolding the door in a fatherly hug. King Rodor was a tall man, with shocking white eyes and a kindly twinkle in his green eyes. He had been named Alienore’s godfather at her birth, and had thusly always been like a second father during Alienore’s many visits to Nemeth.

               “King Rodor, I was starting to think that you and Mithian would not show!” Alienore said jokingly.

               “My dear, I would not miss this day for the world!” Rodor said, laughing along.

               “It means a lot to me that you are, you know that.”

               “Of course, my dear. And you know how proud I am of the strong woman- and Queen- that you’ve become, as I know your father would have been where he here to see this day.” Rodor said, putting a comforting hand on Alienore’s shoulder.

               “So, Alienore, where’s Graham?” Mithian said casually, turning around with an arm over Elaine’s shoulder.

               “He’s out on patrol and should be coming back anytime now.” Alienore replied, subtly raising her eyebrows and smirking at her friend.

               “Of course he’ll be back soon, Graham would never miss the festivities for your coronation, Alienore.” Rodor said as they all started to ascend the stairs. He completely missed the blush that stained his daughter’s cheeks or the little giggle that escaped Alienore.

               They finally parted at the entrance hall, Elaine and Alienore going back upstairs to their own rooms while Mithian and Rodor headed off to their usual guest rooms. Despite the tight conditions with so many guests at the palace, those rooms had been reserved for the Nemeth royals, a sign of the deep friendship between the two countries.

               Alienore went upstairs in order to get some time for herself. Time had been a precious commodity during the last month, one of the many things that she did not know she would miss until it was gone from her. While she had always enjoyed the company of others, in both of the time periods she had lived in, she had also always valued the time she had to herself, to think and to plan. In the last month, it had seemed that she could not go anywhere without being accompanied by some well-meaning servant or knight. Even when she managed to carve out an hour or two to head down to the lists and unwind, she could not go away from official business, getting interrupted by messengers or asked by the knights about her thoughts on some routine or military happening.

               She was now in front of her windows, once again staring off into the stormy waves of the sea. This time, it wasn’t as if the sea was reflecting her thoughts, but more like the sea was inspired by her stormy thoughts. While the weather had been clear just hours ago when she had last left this bedchamber, it now looked as if the sky was about to let all hell open loose. Yet, it had a quiet sense of beauty, the monotone of the grey clouds above the stormy grey waters of the sea, almost turning the bright white cliffs a similar tone of grey. Its beauty had a kind of melancholy, a freedom, which Alienore desperately needed. She could not do this, could not lead a whole country. She was not even eighteen yet, and just a teenager. She was supposed to make mistakes, to learn from them, to have a guiding hand in her life.

               She suddenly felt warm all over, and started sweating in her fine gown. She fanned herself with one hand as pure, abject panic started to set in. Who was she kidding, trying to be Queen of a country, when she hadn’t even finished high school? With her at the helm, Lyonesse would be overrun within weeks, if not days. She couldn’t even control her own feelings, much less a country! The rational part of Alienore’s brain fought against this sense of panic, of desperation, but it was a losing battle. The enormity of the task before her was finally catching up to her after a month of numb grief, and it did not feel good. The walls of her normally cheery room seemed to be coming closer, boxing her in. She was breathing hard now, hyperventilating, the detached part of her mind who could still function normally said. She was an impostor, a little girl playing pretend in a Queen’s clothes. Just because she could muddle her way through using a sword and a council meeting here and there did not mean that she was ready to lead an entire country, to be the backbone needed to keep it running. Anyone would be better qualified than the girl who, till just three short years ago, had read about this period in history books, not lived in it. Elaine or Graham, Sir Aidan or any of the council members, would be better to lead Lyonesse. At the heart of the problem was the feeling that Alienore really did not deserve the faith that everyone was putting on her. Even Merlin, who had just known the little that Nimueh had passed down about her, had been confident in her abilities, despite having met her a day before. She just was not ready, not right, not good enough.

               So Alienore did the only sensible thing at the moment. She ran. Ashamed as she was, with tears running down her face and her breath hitching from the panic attack she had had upstairs, she ran all the way down to the stables, holding on to her heavy skirts and miraculously not falling down the stairs. She was a silent kind of crier, so the only clue that anyone had of her mental state was her hurried step and tear tracks on her face only partially hidden by her hair.

               “Hey, Ali!” Graham called over in the first floor hallway, dusty from his return from patrol. He had only seen a blur of blue as his sister shot past him, and Alienore did not bother to stop. She just needed to go, to get away, to have a clean break. Once she finally reached the stables, thankfully with no questions seeing as the servants were all too busy to notice, she jumped on her mare, Autumn and rode straight for the back entrance to the castle, the path that walked on the cliffs.

               As soon as she was out of the walls of the castle, she let the mare loose, letting her gallop. It took all her focus to hold on to the horse, and thus did not have any time to think. She was free.

\-----

               It could have been two hours later or twenty minutes later, but at the moment Alienore did not really care. The castle was only a distant speck in the distance, far enough away that she could not see it unless she squinted. She had left everything behind, her worries and her fears, propriety and fanfare. She was just lying in the grass, her horse grazing peacefully behind her, the crash of the waves the perfect soundtrack. Here, no one knew her as my lady or your highness. She was just a being. She started ripping up daisies, quickly crafting a daisy crown as she had when she was a little girl. Deciding that it reminded her too much of her current problems, she threw it to the side, making instead a whole assortment of other jewelry with the daisies and poppies that lined the field she found herself in. That bracelet there for Elaine, a necklace for Mithian, an anklet for wild Elena, and yes, even a ring for Morgana and Vivian.

               “Hi!” A voice said behind her, startling her. It was definitely a girl’s voice, sounding friendly and sweet. Alienore turned to see a girl in a bright yellow dress, with tightly curling beautiful black hair and honey skin. She was smiling widely, noticeable even from the small distance that separated them. She had soft chocolate eyes and a basket hanging on her arm. Overall, the girl looked completely harmless, so Alienore relaxed immediately. The girl looked familiar, oddly, as if she had caught only a glimpse of her before.

               “Hello!” Alienore said, making no move to stand up. The tall grass clearly shielded her fine clothing, and the girl appeared to have no idea of who she was. Maybe this is exactly what she needed, some time with someone who had no idea of who she was or what tomorrow was. Someone that she just could be Eleanor, the girl that still lurked underneath, simple and easy.

               “I’m Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen.” The girl said, putting her basket down and walked closer to where Alienore was sitting, still far enough away that only Alienore’s head was visible. “What’s your name?”

               Alienore hesitated, realizing that she had seen the girl in the palace courtyard, with the Camelot party. She had been talking to the Lady Morgana, and had fortunately not really seen Alienore. But now, were she to catch a glimpse of the fine gown she was wearing and hear her name, Gwen would surely put the two and two together. Grabbing the blanket she was sitting on, she wrapped it around her shoulders and said, “I-I’m no one, no one important out here.”

               Gwen’s step faltered at her odd words. Then, peering closer, she appeared to realize that Alienore came out here to be alone, to escape her world. Her face immediately lost her bright smile, and she said apologetically, “You’re here to be alone, and I bumbled in, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I’m just going…yeah, I’m going to go.” Gesturing back to her basket and quickly fleeing.

               “No, no, you’re fine. You can stay. I mean, if you want, I’m sure you’re busy and everything, and I shouldn’t have asked…”

               “I’d love to stay. Do you mind if I sit?” Gwen said, the smile returning to her face. She had stopped halfway, and was now inching closer once again. Alienore simply cleared away some of her earlier artwork with the flowers and gestured towards the now clear ground with a small, hesitant smile.

               “So, what can I call you, no one?” Gwen asked, fingering a couple of the daisy chains.

               Alienore pulled the blanket tighter against herself, checking to make sure that no sign of her fine dress could be seen. “El-My sis- My friends sometimes call me Ali.”

               “Alright then, Ali it is. It’s nice to meet you.” Gwen said extending her hand for a handshake. Alienore did not hesitate to return, smiling at the twinkle in the other girl’s eyes.

               “Nice to meet you too, Gwen.”

               “What brings you out here, Ali?”

               “I-I just needed to leave, to go somewhere where no one knew me for a little bit, I guess. I needed time to think, and so I came here. It’s one of my favorite places, because it’s so peaceful.”

               “It’s beautiful. I don’t think I would have ever seen this place if I hadn’t stumbled on it by accident, but now I’m so glad that I’m here!” Gwen said.

               “What took you here?”

               “I was out looking for a rare flower that only grows in these parts. Gaius, the Court Physician in Camelot- that’s where I’m from you see, I think I forgot to mention earlier, oh well- asked me to look for it. He was really kind to my family, coming out to treat my mom when she was sick, so I wanted to repay his kindness, you see. Morgana- I mean, Lady Morgana- I’m her maidservant, that’s why I’m here- gosh I’m making a mess and you probably can’t understand any of this, but anyways, Lady Morgana was sleeping, so I figured today was as good as any day.”

               Alienore laughed at how flustered the other girl seemed to get as she answered the question. It was an endearing trait, how she kept putting her foot in her mouth, but kept on talking. A light blush now stained Gwen’s cheeks as Alienore waved her concern away. “You’re here for the coronation then?”

               Gwen nodded, saying: “Well, to help Lady Morgana get ready for the coronation. I doubt they invited the foreign servants. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of the Queen as she arrives into the hall or at the banquet later. I would love to see the coronation though, it sounds like the best part of being Queen. Wearing a pretty dress and having everyone say nice things about you may be the only good thing about being Queen, actually. I mean, if you’re Queen, you don’t have time for anything else: friends, family, hobbies, falling in love. All that, gone! No, I feel quite sorry for her- Oh my gosh that sounds like treason!”

               “No, no, I definitely know what you mean. In all confidence, I feel kind of sorry for her too. I mean, if she messes up or something, she’ll have everyone watching and judging.” Alienore said, a little twinkle in her eyes as she smiled conspirationally at Gwen.

               Gwen laughed at Alienore’s over the top wink. “No, but I would love for once to sit and watch an event instead of standing at the back with the other servants… Are you going to the coronation? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” Gwen quickly added as she saw the guarded look return to Alienore’s eyes.

               “No, it’s fine. I don’t actually know if I’m going to go. Those affairs tend to drag on forever.” Alienore said, careful of not giving any hint of how she’ll actually attend. She let Gwen draw her own conclusions about whether she would be going as a servant or a noblewoman. It was clear that the other girl had no idea that she was talking to the same person she had just been discussing.

               “Maybe one day a handsome knight will sweep me away and make me his lady. Then, I’ll get to actually sit down _and_ eat at these infernally long royal functions!” Gwen said wistfully.

               Alienore laughed at the mock serious tone, and then said, “Any knight will be lucky to have you, Gwen. I can see you’re destined for great things.” She said, her mind flashing back to what Merlin had told her about this sweet and simple girl in front of her. Little did she know that one day, she would be attending her own coronation instead of Alienore’s. Indeed, Gwen was destined for great things.

               “Me? I’m just a simple maidservant, the daughter of a blacksmith. No, I’m happy with my lot in life. I’ve got a good family and a good job, a mistress that is more like a friend. Great things are not in the cards for me.” Gwen said more seriously. Her face turned pensive before she said: “I think the one who is going to do great things is the future Queen. I caught just a glimpse of her this morning, but Ali! She was young, probably around our age, but she carried herself like a Queen who had ruled for decades. She had this quiet strength and confidence that even King Uther respected. No, she is one who is going to do great things, not I.”

               Alienore reached over to awkwardly pat Gwen leg. “Nonetheless, I do believe you’re meant for more than the life of a simple maidservant. Call it a premonition or a feeling, but I just know.”

               “Then I shall take your word for it and thank you for your faith.” Gwen said, smiling as she covered Alienore’s hand with her own. “Oh my goodness, look at the time! I need to get back and get Morgana ready for the banquet tonight!” Gwen said, looking at the sun, which was starting to set. She ran over to where she left the basket before pausing to look back at Alienore.

               Alienore stood up as well and, gathering the blanket close, she picked up the daisy crown that she had made for herself earlier. Walking over to where Gwen was standing, trying to find the words to say goodbye, she said, “There. Now you can be the Queen of this clearing. Your Majesty.” Alienore said, dropping into her best curtsy.

               “Thank you. Goodbye, Ali. I wish you well.”

               “Goodbye, Gwen. I hope our paths cross again.” Alienore said. Gwen shot her another smile as she hurried out of the clearing, close to running. Alienore waited for a few seconds before gathering her things and hopping onto her horse, taking a different path than Gwen as she made her way back to the castle.

               When she walked back into her rooms at the castle, she found an uproar. Elaine, Brownen, Elena, Mithian and Graham (who were not-so-subtly holding hands) were sitting and standing around, all arguing in loud voices. Near the doorway, Sir Aidan was lounging, watching with a worried look on his face. He was the first to notice her arrival, startled. “My lady, we were all worried!” He said, moving off the wall. None of the other inhabitants of the room seemed to have noticed her standing in the doorway, and so they kept arguing about her whereabouts.

               “I’m sorry, I just needed to clear my head. Have they been at this for long?” She said, inclining her head towards her family and friends.

               “Maybe half a turn of the sundial?” Sir Aidan said, the amusement that he had been too worried to show earlier now shining through.

               “This is ridiculous.” Alienore said, stomping towards the center of the room. “STOP!” She yelled.

               Everyone froze, turning to look at her. “Alienore! Ali! My lady!” Various voices chimed. “Where were you? We were all worried sick!” Said Graham, his voice louder than the others.

               “I took a ride to clear my head. Now, what were you all doing?”

               Many of the people assembled blushed, murmuring nonsense under their breaths. They were clearly embarrassed at having been caught arguing. Alienore saw Sir Aidan trying to hold a laugh, and she had to restrain a grin herself. She also was careful to shoot a pointed look at Mithian and Graham’s joined hands, causing the two to hastily spring apart with bright red spots on their cheeks. Deciding to take pity on them, knowing that they had been truly worried about her, she said: “Well, whatever, you can all tell me later. I think we’ve all got a banquet to prepare for, so shoo! Out of my room!” She said, closing the door behind Elaine, the last one.

               “Brownen, I need a favor….” She said, giving herself over to the servant’s careful care.

               An hour and a half later, darkness had fallen. Alienore looked like a brand new person, with a loose half up half down hair style and loose curling hair reaching all the way to her waist. Her gown had an empire waist and was made completely out of cloth of silver, cutting away at the bodice and the skirt to show the light blue under gown. She was wearing a silver circlet on her forehead embedded with two sapphires, and it looked like it had just come out of the Lord of the Rings. She loved it, and had in fact taken it out of the vaults herself just for tonight. For a boost of confidence, she was wearing Joyeuse in a special sheath underneath her gown, meant to conceal her sword.

               When she arrived in the Great Hall, everyone was already there. On the raised dais meant for the high table, three more tables had been added in a square formation in order to accommodate the visiting royalty. Long, rectangular tables served all the knights and nobles, below the royal table. Alienore walked over to the intricate chair that had always been her father’s and said: “Welcome to all our guests to Lyonesse! Please, dig in!” She said, gesturing for the servants to start bringing the first course. Everyone sat, and a night of merriment and good spirits that none would soon forget started.

\------

               Gwen climbed the last step of what seemed like the thousandth to her room. It had been a long day, busy and tiring. Put on top of three weeks spent riding a horse and sleeping on the hard ground, she was exhausted. She finally reached the tiny room- more of a closet, really- that had been assigned to her and opened the door. She collapsed on the bed, ready to sleep without even washing her face or changing out of her dirty dress, before noticing something odd beneath her. It was a dress, more beautiful than any she’d ever seen, purple with an embroidered neckline and a billowing skirt. Attached to it there was a short note, clearly scribbled in a hurry. Gwen thanked her mother for the hundredth time for teaching her how to read and write, and then read:

_Dear Gwen,_

_Thank you for your honesty and company this afternoon. Not many would be as kind to a stranger with no name as you were. I hope that I can truly call you a friend without causing offence. And to see you tomorrow, sitting down and enjoying the show, as well as the food. My treat._

_Yours, Ali._

_P.S. I really hope the dress fits, seeing as we looked of a size. If not, feel free to ask any of the servants for help._

\-----

               Showtime. Game time. All words that helped describe what Alienore was feeling, and yet were not quite enough. It was an odd feeling as she waited in her bedchamber for Graham to come and get her, for everyone to be assembled. She should have been nervous, on edge even, and yet an odd calm had settled within her sometime during the long, sleepless night. Everyone around her seemed to feel a wide range of emotions, moving fast and talking even quicker, and yet she was calm, her movements even and measured. It was like she was the eye of the hurricane, the calm in the center of the storm. It raged all around her, and yet she showed no signs of it. In a way, she had made her peace with her task, and now all that lay between her and the rest of her life was just today, the coronation.

               She sat on her bed, her hands folded in her lap. Somehow, she had resisted her usual urge to pace, and was instead just staring at her room, taking it all in. Something told her that once she walked through the doorway, nothing would ever be the same. She would leave as Alienore, and the next time she returned she would be Queen Alienore. Everything would change, and yet she would still remain the same. Strangely, she was okay with that.

               A quiet knock sounded on the door. Alienore glanced outside the window and judged it to be too earlier for it to be Graham to come and get her for the ceremony. Opening the door, she saw Brownen, wearing a new yellow dress, standing in the doorway.

               “Your Majesty” Brownen said with a small curtsy.

               Alienore opened the door wider and stood aside to let the servant through. “No need for that, Brownen. I’m still the same as always. Now, what can I do for you?”

               “I have a gift for you. I forgot to give to you earlier.” Brownen said, holding up an elaborate box that she had been nervously clutching.

               “Who’s it from?” Alienore said, getting her first glimpse of herself in her coronation gown. Her hair was down and loose, reaching past her waist. No embellishments or hairstyles had been done to leave room for the crown. Her gown was a deep sky blue, of course, with the skirt having several layers, each lighter than the one below it, ending with a small train at the bottom. The bodice had a golden corset above it, but fortunately was not restricting her in any way. Finally, the sleeves were the same sky blue till mid-arm, where they cascaded into precious lace all the way down her wrist. It had taken over a month to craft by hand, and was by far the best gown Alienore had ever seen.

               “Well, in a way, your mother.” Brownen said, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

               “My mother?”

               “Yes, my lady. Your mother, Queen Venetia, gave this to my mother, who was one of her servants, and made her swear to give it you on your coronation day. Since my mother passed on, she gave me this duty. I have kept it safe for you ever since.” Brownen said, opening the box to show a delicate silver necklace resting on the red velvet that lined the box. It was made of intricate links that resembled sideways eights (or infinity signs, as they would be known in Alienore’s time) with a big sapphire resting in the center, meant to lay near her heart.

               “It’s beautiful. Brownen, I don’t even know what to say, because thank you cannot really convey what I’m feeling right now. Thank you, thank you, a million times.” Alienore said, wiping a couple tears from her eyes. This necklace was a way to carry her mother and father, from both centuries really, with her on this day. It meant more to her than anyone could ever know. “Will you help me put it on?” Alienore said, parting her hair to the side.

               “Of course, my lady.” Brownen said, undoing the somewhat primitive clasp. She laid it around Alienore’s neck and clasped it, standing back to see the effect. She nodded, satisfied. “Now you’re ready, my lady.”

               “Thank you, Brownen. I’ll let you go and take your seat. Did you do as we discussed last night?”

               “Yes, my lady. I’ll see you in a bit.” Brownen said, smiling at Alienore. Without her usual sense of purpose and efficiency, she looked younger, more her age. Alienore was glad that she had gotten to be more than just Brownen’s mistress, they had become friends. Brownen told her any palace gossip and was invaluable in organizing events such as this one. She relied on the maidservant, and did not mind saying so.

               All alone with her thoughts once again, Alienore went to stand beside the window. It was still her favorite place in the room, and today was no different. The sky was blue and the sea calm, as if nature was smiling down on the day’s events. Alienore smiled, taking it as a good omen.

               “Alienore!” Graham said on the other side of the door sometimes later, interrupting Alienore’s reverie. She hurried over to open the door, bunching up her gown in one hand in order to avoid tripping on it. Opening the door, she caught Graham in mid-knock. Her brother looked grown up in his dress armor and blue cloak. He looked like a knight in shining armor out of a fairytale, not the sarcastic idiot she knew and loved. She understood why Mithian liked him so much.

               “I’m here, I’m here, calm your horses.” Alienore said, letting Graham come into the room.

               “Good, because everyone is down there and I only left Elaine and Mithian to mitigate and I don’t want three wars to break out while they’re waiting.” Graham said, dragging a trailing cloak behind him.

               “Alright, I think I’m all good…” Alienore replied, checking her reflection in the mirror one more time.

               “Ahehem?” Graham said, pointing to the velvet navy blue cloak he was holding. On its back, the crest of Lyonesse was embroidered in silver thread. The cloak was as familiar to her as her own face, it had been her father’s cloak, used for any official occasion.

               “Is that- Is it-Is it?” She asked, her hand visibly trembling as she reached out to touch it. She already knew the answer, seeing the way the light shone off of it, the softness.

               “No, but it’s very similar. It’s an exact copy of the cloak the kings of Lyonesse have been wearing for the last 500 years.” Graham said, shaking it out and putting it over Alienore’s shoulders, clasping it with a silver round brooch. “There, now you’re all ready.”

               “Yes, yes I am.” Alienore said, taking comfort in the cloak’s warm weight and soft whisper. She took Graham’s offered arm and followed him down the stairs, all the way down to the Throne Room.

               “This is where I leave you. Good luck, Ali.” Graham said, kissing her cheek and punching her lightly in the arm. He opened the doors, only wide enough for Alienore to catch a small glimpse of everyone inside, before closing them again with a small wink that solicited a smile from her. She waited as she heard everyone stand up in a rustle of silk and velvet, chainmail and satin. Then, the doors swung open and she was flooded by the bright light coming through the stain glass windows behind the throne.

               Taking only a moment to recover herself, Alienore started down the aisle, head held high and her gaze straight ahead to the small raised dais where the archbishop and Court Historian stood a step below the throne. _Her_ throne.

\------

               Gwen was bewildered and amazed to be sitting at the coronation amid the nobles and knights. She had woken up, thinking that the dress and the note had been all a dream, only to find both still clutched in her hand. She had put on the dress with a little of difficulty- she wasn’t used to wearing dresses with laces herself- but it had fit exactly like Ali said it would. The purple looked really good on her, and the cut made her appear taller. Dressing Morgana had gone by in a daze, a whirlwind of activity. After Morgana had gone down to take her seat, Gwen had not-so-subtly followed her, unsure of where exactly her place. She had almost gone to stand with the other servants, sure that that was what the letter intended, when she was waylaid by a wispy blond wearing a fine white and green gown.

               “Are you Gwen?” The girl said in her musical voice. She had a smile plastered on her face and genuine excitement, as well as happiness, could be read everywhere on her face.

               “Yes.” Gwen said, smiling uncertainly. How did the girl know her name?

               “Oh finally! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Ali said that I better look out for you, that you didn’t know where to sit. Come, you’re just a few rows back from me and my family. I’m Elaine by the way.” The girl said, grabbing Gwen’s arm and pulling her to a row fairly close to the raised dais, far further into the room than Gwen was comfortable with. Indeed, she was only two rows back from where Morgana sat on the other side of the aisle, talking with Uther and blessedly oblivious.

               “That’s your seat. If you need anything, Brownen should be here anytime. She has this other seat. I’ll see you after, Gwen.” Elaine said. Gwen’s seat was the middle one on the row, with the girl named Brownen taking the empty aisle one. As soon as she finished talking, Elaine flitted away to her own seat in the front row, giving Gwen as small wave when she saw that the other girl was still standing in the middle of the aisle. Gwen quickly moved to sit, struggling not to gape at her surroundings. She stared at everyone and everything, her brain struggling to take it all in. It was only when she heard the doors shut and saw a knight quickly walk down the aisle to take his place next to Elaine that she snapped out of her reverie. She stood up with the rest of the people, twisting to take a good look at the back of the room. The doors opened and a girl walked in, looking not much older than Gwen herself. That was the only glimpse that Gwen got before she too had to bow down with the rest of the room, but it was enough. This time, there was no stopping her jaw from hanging open. Ali stood for Alienore, the Queen of Lyonesse.

\-----

               “Alienore Genevieve Madeleine Skye Marie Vatteville, do you solemnly promise to uphold and protect the laws and people of Lyonesse to the best of your abilities from now to the day of your death?” The thin, reedy voice of the archbishop said.

               “I do.” Alienore affirmed, her voice clear and strong, carrying through the room and all those within it. She was kneeling on a red velvet cushion, her back to the room. As she said her words, the archbishop took the crown from its cushion in the Court Librarian’s hands and held it aloft over Alienore’s head.

               “Then I crown thee, Alienore, Queen of Lyonesse.” The archbishop said, placing the heavy golden crown, embellished with diamonds and sapphires, on Alienore’s head. With that, Alienore turned to face the crown, who was now shouting ‘Long Live the Queen’ as she led them out to the banquet hall. Lyonesse had its Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters already written that amount to a good 50k but I'm not sure when I will be able to finish the story... I don't think I'll give up on it just yet though, so look out for updates- they will come, I just don't know how often. Thank you to those who reviewed and kept pushing me to write


End file.
